


Pretend Trainers

by catmiint



Category: Pretend Wizards D&D Campaign
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Pokemon AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6627700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catmiint/pseuds/catmiint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to the Atla—a region in the world of Pokémon where we follow the journey of eight trainers under the tutelage of the Champion-turned-Professor Mortimer Crim. Not all is as it seems though, and they find themselves intertwined in the plans of a mysterious group.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Life

**Author's Note:**

> Art by shamrae on tumblr! Beta'd by shamrae and cattrap55!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragna Red, Dweezil Zappa, and Lolani Arbor all hope to start their lives anew, and the first step is to receive a Pokédex from the fabled Mortimer Crim.

 

* * *

 

**RAGNA RED — "Idol"**

 

Ragna woke with a start, his sleeping mind suddenly realizing the enormity of the day and switching on all at once. He jolted out of bed, limbs tangling in sheets and thoughts ablaze with only one thing: Mortimer. Fucking. Crim.

Today was the day that ten year reigning Atla region champion, Mortimer Crim, was putting on a lab coat and handing out Pokédexes to six new trainers. Ragna was determined to be one of those six, even if he had to shove a dozen ten-year-olds out of his way. That Pokédex was his.

Ragna glanced over at one of his posters of Mortimer Crim, which showed the magnificent man standing confidently at the side of his trusted Blissey, and steeled himself. He couldn’t be falling apart like some rabid fan. His interest in Mortimer Crim was simply one of…admiration of the man’s ability to hold himself in a battle.

Who was he kidding, Ragna was entirely obsessed with Crim. From the way he handled his Pokémon to his luscious chest hair, Ragna was enraptured. Of course, he still couldn’t let Crim know that, so for know now, Ragna had to try to compose himself.

Not wanting to look too eager, Ragna forced himself to go through his morning routine at a normal pace—getting dressed, making breakfast, and setting out food for the spoiled Purrloins and Glameows of Mayfield. He double, then triple checked his pack for all of his supplies—a wad of cash, extra clothes, and a few new yet simple Pokéballs. He could simply walk to Helm since there was a nice, trainer-free path through the tall grasses of Route 301. It was just one of the many perks of living in a town of people content to keep Pokémon as pets rather than companions to battle with.

Everything in order, Ragna was off to start the next chapter of his life.

\----

The distinct noise of a large crowd assaulted his ears the very moment Ragna set foot in Helm; it was the grating sound of talking made indistinct due to the specifics being lost in the hoard of people. Helm was usually quite crowded, but he was accustomed to the sounds that the typical crowd brought. Although Ragna was, by far, Crim’s biggest fan and most deserving of one of those six Pokédexes, of course he wouldn’t be the only one eager to train under Mortimer Crim. He could tell that the city was much more crowded today, filled with the other hopefuls. Groaning, he followed the map in his head leading to Mortimer Crim.

Ragna had been prepared for a crowd around Crim’s house, but he did expect that many people to have shown up already. He gritted his teeth. Nothing could, or would, stop him. Not even a crowd full of rabid fans.

Rolling his shoulders back, he got to work, pushing through the crowd with no regard for politeness. In matters of meeting your idol, one could never be too impolite. The squawks of protest from those he pushed out of the way barely registered, as he was a man on a holy mission.

Upon reaching the front of the crowd, Ragna met the tall wooden door of Crim’s house. On it, a note read ‘Out for lunch’ in a loose scrawl. Ragna grunted in frustration and turned around to look around the crowd. It seemed like everyone else was just as confused and frustrated as he was. Before he could even consider what to do, a short man that had spent far too much time on his teased blond hair shoved past Ragna and, without hesitation, opened the door.

The door slammed shut behind the blonde man, and Ragna immediately surged forward. He roughly turned the doorknob, but it didn’t budge. “Hey, what the fuck gives?”

Ragna kicked the door with his foot and huffed. What kind of fucking bullshit was this? He scowled and sulked around the house in search of another entrance. There was no way some short, blond ponce would get a Pokédex and he, Ragna Red, wouldn’t.

The crowd thinned out away from the door, most not realizing that there were other theoretical entrances to a house. Either that, or they were the type of people that were too polite to bust into a celebrity's house through the window.

About fifty feet away from the door there was a low window, likely letting light into a sort of basement area. Wondering if he could see into the house from it, he squatted down, bracing himself with one hand on the soft ground. A second passed before he registered that the grass beneath his hand was shifting, and he pulled it away as if stung, startled.

Where his hand had been was the easily identifiable top of a very small Oddish. It was only half-buried in the ground and seemed to be ignorant to the fact that the top of its purplish head was exposed for all to see. The leaves on top were twitching as it squirmed in the dirt, not entirely aware of its surroundings.

“Uh, hey buddy, what are you doing here?” Ragna questioned, careful to whisper as he didn’t want his gruff voice to startle the tiny creature. The Oddish popped its head out of the hole, blinking up at him with red eyes. “Huh, aren’t you cute. Now, do you know any way to get into this house?” He reckoned it was worth a try to ask it.

The Oddish paused and stared at him for several moments, the leaves on its head still twitching. Then, with no warning, it turned away from him and towards a bush that slightly obscured the low window. Hell yeah grass type communing with plants to hel—

Against all expectations, the Oddish threw its body forward, crashing against the glass plane with a gross crunch; the window shattered, pieces falling inside the house and around the Oddish, which was lying on its side on the windowsill. The creature appeared to be unfazed, much to Ragna’s relief, and it popped right back up to its feet. Tough as nails, it excitedly tapped around and gazed up at Ragna expectantly.

He stared down at the tiny Oddish, bouncing around broken shards of glass and happily chirping. Worried that the not-so-bright Pokémon would cut itself, Ragna gently picked it up, cradling it in the crook of his arm. “I’ll name you Egg—because you’re round and stupid.”

In response, Egg wiggled in his grasp in what Ragna guessed was a pleased manner.

“And I guess since you’re now my responsibility, I can’t think about you as an ‘it’. Hmmm.” He looked closer and tried to examine Egg for any signs of what its gender was. Did Pokémon even really have the capacity to have a gender beyond that for reproduction purposes? Guessing not, Ragna decided to refer to Egg as a boy because bros had to stick together.

Ragna used his boot to clear the glass that remained in the window frame and squished himself through, Egg happily in hand.

 

* * *

 

 

**DWEEZIL ZAPPA — "Commoner"**

 

Cheek pressed against the cold glass, Dweezil gazed out the window of the trolley at the scenery rolling past. The familiar backdrop of Tartan City had long since passed, leaving him with a sense of unease about the future to come; it was easy enough to say that Dweezil of the noble Zappa clan did not appreciate the feeling.

What had happened leading up to him hopping on a train in hopes of getting a new start under the tutelage of the rich and famous Mortimer Crim was hardly his fault. The blame solely laid with his father. Completely. After all, it was his father that overreacted to things that didn't even matter. It wasn't his business if Dweezil preferred to pass time throwing or crashing parties.

And yet, here he was, with only what he had in his pack to his name. Even his beloved Ponyta, Roban, couldn't accompany him due to the trolley company's strict policy against the presence of Pokémon—in a Pokéball or not—in its vehicles. This meant that Dweezil had to gamble on Mortimer Crim accepting him as one of his six new trainers. Although ‘gamble’ isn't the word he'd apply to this situation, being that he was Dweezil fucking Zappa.

And, being Dweezil fucking Zappa, of course he’d be accepted as one of Crim’s six trainers.

Dweezil didn't have any notable experience in battling Pokémon, but as a child he had Pokémon as pets—bred to be docile and generally unsuited to battle. A few times he had mock battled with some of his siblings using his father's Pokémon that weren't currently on his active party. That was the extent of it though.

Eventually he dozed off with thoughts of Pokémon floating around in his head, lulled to sleep by the repetitive noise of the trolley rolling along tracks and assurance that his new life was off to a fine enough start.

\---

Dweezil arrived in Helm and, stepping off the trolley and onto the crowded platform, sheltered from the elements only by a worn canvas canopy, was immediately struck by how different it was to any other city he'd seen. It was beastly hot, even without the overbearing touch of the sun. He was much more accustom to the pleasant, brisk spring weather of Northern Atla. It was only late April, and Dweezil already felt sweat beading at his brow from being in the heat for a few minutes.

People bustled about, trailed by Pokémon of all shapes and sizes. To the side, he even saw two people in the thick of an impromptu battle between a hulking Torterra and bubbling Magcargo. In Tartan City, anyone that dared battle on the streets would have their free-walk license suspended. A small crowd gathered around the training battlers, some making bets and others just cheering. Layers of sound built up, drowning out any attempt Dweezil made to ask for direction to Mortimer Crim's House. And, he noted bitterly, even if he knew what roads to take, he wasn't sure how anyone got around this damned city since half of the street signs were too faded to be legible.

Dweezil had first ventured into the streets of Helm early in the morning, but after aimlessly wandering in search of the champion-turned-professor's house for hours, it was already high noon. If he thought it was beastly hot and ungodly crowded at first, there was no way to describe Helm during the midday. He only managed to locate the fucking house because he overheard two older women walking a Purugly gossiping about it.

And, of fucking course, there was a massive mob surrounding Crim's house.

He felt as disgusting and sweaty as a poor laborer, his heavy—and expensive—clothing sticking to his skin unpleasantly and his meticulously styled blond hair slick with sweat. A scowl twisted his features, and the dwarf felt his face grow even hotter under the pressure of his own, quickly-mounting rage. To sum it up politely, Dweezil motherfucking Zappa had no bloody fucking patience for standing around in a crowd of filthy middle class. He simply squared his shoulders and began to walk stride forward, expecting the crowd to sense how much more important he was than them and part.

And, of fucking course, the massive mob jumped out of his way (he imagined they did so graciously, bending low to the ground in reverence, and ignored the angry and vile insults flung at him).

He didn't even spare the sloppy note on the door a second glance before he, without hesitation, pulled the door open. Immediately upon entering the dimly lit room, he felt a mass of something fling itself onto his head. "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?" Dweezil shrieked as the door slammed close behind him, feeling the thing in his hair flailing begin to flail desperately.

He grasped at the ball of squirming annoyance and felt his fingers close around smooth wings and a fuzz-covered body. With more force than probably necessary, Dweezil ripped the horrendous creature from his unfortunate hair, which was far too beautiful to have deserved such a grotesque assault.

Held out in front of him, still flapping its wings in confusion, a Zubat was clicking and swiveling its head. A disgusted look overtook his face, even as the Zubat calmed and clicked at him curiously. It was the most hideous and utterly common creature he had ever seen.

"Uh, Mortimer Crim?" Dweezil called out, almost tentative at first and then gaining courage as he next exclaimed, "Your UGLY FUCK of a Zubat attacked me, and, you know, I was told I was gonna get a Pokédex—not rabies."

The house was still for a moment and, then, the creaking of stairs. His gaze followed the noise, and the imposing figure of the Mortimer Crim entered his vision. He actually reminded Dweezil of Helm—not what he expected, hot, and reeking of alcohol.

Crim was a dark man—dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark Pyroar trailing behind him. His white lab coat was loosely hanging off one arm, and under it he wore khaki shorts and a v-neck. It was quite the v-neck, Dweezil noted. A very v-neck v-neck. He couldn't look away from that lush forest of curly black chest hair.

Quite the v-neck, indeed.

"My Zubat?" Crim questioned in a deep, hearty voice. "I guess y'don't understand what just happened—that's your Zubat."

 

* * *

 

 

**LOLANI ARBOR — "Moral Compass"**

Lolani stepped off the boat and took in a breath of fresh air. The stench of fish was heavy, as expected, and yet distinctly different from the fishy smell of Unova's ports. She didn't have any more opportunity to take in her surroundings before those who had yet to unload urged her forward impatiently. She let herself be swept up in the crowd, suddenly overwhelmed by the abrupt change of scenery she was presented with.

In that moment, she felt slightly sick to her stomach with unease. It was hard to remember that she wanted to be here in Atla. That she needed to leave Unova. And yet...the unfamiliarity of the Atlan port city of Loggerspoole and being days away from where she was born and raised was unnerving.

It had been two years since the storm surrounding Team Plasma swept Unova, but despite those two years, it still affected her and many others every day. Part of her had begun to believe their rhetoric, and she had wondered if battling Pokémon was something that should be done. Maybe Pokémon didn’t like to battle? Maybe they really were taking away and limiting their free will? Were they actually treating them like tools, and not friends, by forcing them to fight in battles at their trainer’s mere whim?

And then it was revealed that the movement was corrupted at the core, twisted and rotten and not at all about the wellbeing of Pokémon.

Now, Team Plasma was back, and Lolani knew she had to go elsewhere to sort out her feelings on the matter and figure out who she was. She felt guilty for abandoning her home, but she couldn't stay. When she heard that the Champion of Atla was going to rest on his laurels to become a Professor and hand out Pokédexes to new trainers, she jumped on the opportunity.

Here, in Atla, she could discover where her inner moral compass led her while fulfilling a childhood dream of being a Pokémon contestant. So, despite all her doubts, Lolani held her head high and kept her conviction strong as she made her way to the trolley station where she would spend days traveling south to receive a Pokédex from Mortimer Crim.

\---

Lolani didn't arrive in Helm early by any means, but she still was confident that she hadn't missed her chance. Pushing her way through the crowded streets, she wandered somewhat aimlessly in search of Mortimer Crim's house. She briefly wished she was more familiar with the city, or any part of Atla, for that matter, but shook away the negative thoughts that threatened to rise to the surface. There had been far too much time spent moping on the trolley, and she had to think positively about this new chapter in her life.

Although it was loud and difficult to hear, Lolani was able to ask a kindly stranger for directions. The stranger was a tall, slim man with a sleeping Beedrill wrapped around his head. He was polite and warned her that Roman—his Beedrill—had seen quite the crowd surrounding the house. She thanked him for the directions and heads up, took another moment to admire the affection between trainer and Pokémon, and once again head out on her merry way.

Now that she knew where she was going, it didn't take Lolani to reach her destination. Quite simple, actually. She couldn't fathom why someone wouldn't save themselves hours of wandering in the heat by asking someone for directions. People were always so kind and helpful, after all.

And it seemed Roman was right about the crowd surrounding Crim's house. Lolani paused, taking in the sight in front of her. Ahead, she saw a short man simply walk into the house without hesitation. In response, a bulky man with head and shoulders above the crowd, stalked off to the side and entered the house through a window.

So, Lolani mused, that's how this is gonna go.

Today wasn't a day to hesitate or prance around decisions, so she gathered her courage and walked around the bulk of the crowd. There was possibly an entrance into the house near the back. It was a simple solution that not many people may realize for it's simplicity; like that pompous blond man just walking through the front door.

The crowd thinned dramatically near the sides at the house and was entirely nonexistent at the back. What there was instead of people, however, was a pink Pokémon nearly her height. She recognized it immediately as a Blissey, recalling the times she had seen such Pokémon helping in hospitals for both human and Pokémon. The Blissey regarded Lolani frantically, making a soft noise as she approached Lolani and gripped her wrist with one small hand. She had no time to react as the Blissey dragged her forward and gestured towards the roof of the building with her other hand.

"What's wrong?" Lolani asked, her brow furrowed as she followed the Blissey's frantic gestures with her gaze.

It took a few moments to see what Blissey was worried about, but a gasp pulled from her throat involuntarily as she saw it. Teetering dangerously on the roof was an egg about the size of her head—shiny ivory with red and blue patterns. She didn't hesitate before she lurched forward, grasping at handholds on the wall and scaling the building. The only thing on her mind was saving that Pokémon egg from a tragic fate.

Time seemed to slow down as it stereotypically does in tense moments, seconds stretching out ahead of her. Climbing this building felt like it took hours instead of minutes. Honestly, she felt a little melodramatic but at the same time all that was on her mind was saving this egg containing what was probably the cutest Pokémon ever to exist.

The moment she pulled herself over the side of the wall and onto the roof, she grabbed for the egg and cradled it gently in her arms. Hugging it tight to her chest, she twisted her head around and looked back towards the ground, prepared to call out reassurance to the worried Blissey, but it was nowhere in sight.

Lolani scanned the landscape below her—from her vantage point she could see more details of the crowd, individual people with varying expressions from hope to complete frustration. The scenery of Helm was beautiful in its own way. Although nature was few and far between, and some of the buildings were a bit patched together, it all told a story. Pieces came together for her, forming her first clear picture of what life in Atla would become for her—strange and sometimes unpleasant but ultimately beautiful.

Lolani knew that this moment, sitting on the roof of Mortimer Crim's house with a warm egg nestled in her arms, was one she would look back on for years to come.


	2. The Adventure in Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sapphire Song, Lee Bronne, and Crispin Ascalon are all in need of a change, and receiving a Pokédex from Mortimer Crim seems like the kind of change they need.

 

** **

* * *

 

**SAPPHIRE SONG — "Static"**

 

Sapphire had said her goodbyes to her mother and siblings long ago, but only just now did it begin to feel true as she heard the gentle click of a door closing behind her.

Spinel had been the first to leave home, bidding their tiny forest cottage farewell to start a life with Pokémon independent of the family. Months later, he returned with the lively Swablu named Key. The Swablu was small and vibrant in both personality and color, different than any Pokémon that she and her sibling, Topaz, had ever seen. That day she said goodbye to Spinel once again and saw the wistful look in Topaz’s eyes.

Topaz left home soon after, with only a hastily written note left as a goodbye to Sapphire and their mother. Months later, they returned with a shy Kirlia named Tempo. The Kirlia hid behind their skirts, clutching at the folds of the fabric and peeking out at Sapphire with wide, timid eyes. She said good bye to Topaz again and felt a stirring in her gut.

It took some time for the curiosity to build up enough for Sapphire to want to leave, and so she stayed with her mother for another two years—accepting her quiet life in a quiet forest with little but the soft chirping of bird Pokémon and gentle hum of a tea kettle on the stove. The bond she had seen between Spinel & Key and later Topaz & Tempo intrigued her; it was a far cry from any previous interactions she had with Pokémon. There was a particular Murkrow that she sometimes passed time with, giving it bits of bread in exchange for various smooth stones the bird found, but it wasn’t the same relationship that a trainer and Pokémon had.

Sapphire wondered what that was like and was curious as to what was out there, so she left her mother and lifelong home. It didn’t feel like she was starting a new life, as it was something that she and her mother expected to happen at some point. They accepted that one day she would close the cabin door and never open it again, like Spinel and Topaz accepted it. Change, rather than rebirth. Her path diverged from her brother’s, her sibling’s, and her mother’s, and only time could tell if those paths would cross ever again.

So, with little but what was shoved in the pockets of her skirt and stuffed in her purse, Sapphire Song let her feet carry her out of the forest she had never left before.

 

\---

Some months ago, Sapphire had walked out of the Tartan Forest, passed through Tartan City, and left the entirety of the Tartan Quarter behind her. She didn’t immediately become a trainer, and instead took a detour to the pleasant city of Little Occam. Something about it appealed to her, although she wasn’t sure if it was the pattering of rain against metal roofs or the lax real estate market—whatever that was—that let her walk into a quaint, abandoned apartment and claim it as her own. She later learned that one should be paying rent to a lord of the land, but she thought the concept peculiar and ignored that weird city-dweller tradition.

Now, however, she stood in the middle of a crowd with a crumpled poster clutched in one hand. The spring heat of Helm was a welcome surprise to the clammy, constantly raining city of Little Occam, although the lack of rain meant that people were less averse to contact with the outdoors. This made her realize that city-dwellers were generally adverse to her standing in one spot, although she didn’t see how that affected them in any way.

She glanced down at the poster again and the image of a man’s face, and although the paper had worn with time, the text was still readable—“Want to follow your dreams of being a Pokémon trainer? Be one of the lucky 6 to be taught by the legendary Mortimer Crim!”. Sapphire knew of Mortimer Crim, he was the champion of the Pokémon league, however she was less interested in that and more interested in the times she caught sight of his name while reading her mother’s aged journals. Her mother was always so vague and cryptic though, so she didn’t know much of her relation to Mortimer Crim and was curious as she didn’t know her mother had a life before the forests of Tartan Quarter.

The address to Mortimer Crim’s house and laboratory was in small print at the bottom of the page, and it was easy enough to find it on the map of Helm she had in her other hand. Sapphire turned on her heels and began to walk down the street, in a direction opposite of the way the crowd was walking, which apparently also made the city-dwellers angry at her. First they were annoyed for her standing and now for walking? They really should make up their minds on what is or isn’t acceptable.

Crim's was much larger than expected and like the streets of Helm, it was surrounded by a crowd of annoyed people. It was a bit annoying how annoyed everyone always seemed about everything. Frustrated by the crowd’s general air of frustration, Sapphire gripped someone on the arm, asking, “Why is everyone so upset?”

The person she had grabbed, a lanky man with clay-colored hair, swung his head around and violently yanked his arm from her grasp. “Shit, kid, you scared me,” he complained, stepping back and bumping into the chest of someone behind him.

Sapphire tilted her head and, unsure how to respond, simply repeated herself, “Why is everyone so upset?”

“I dunno, Crim’s not actually here or something?” The man rubbed the back of his neck,. “A couple o’ people have just kinda walked in though.”

“Oh, okay,” Sapphire nodded and turned away from him to head to the door, satisfied with the answer.

Again, people weren’t too pleased with Sapphire walking through the crowd, even though they were the ones standing in place this time. She would never be able to understand life in the city, — everything was so over complicated. The front door had a note on it reading “Out for lunch” and, shrugging, she tried the doorknob. It clicked and didn’t budge, so she tried turning it more. No luck.

She scanned the house, looking for some other entrance. There were windows, of course, but it would be rude to enter someone’s house that way. Sapphire took a few moments to reassess the situation. Just because the front door was locked didn’t mean the back door was too.

Sapphire started to walk along the side of the house, squeezing in between it and the crowd, but the wall was disgustingly grimy. When initially looking upon the house she had thought it was a pale gray, but now she realized that it was a white house caked in a layer of…some sort of residue that she had trouble identifying››. Not so much unnerved but rather irked, she decided that she’d rather walk through the middle of the crowd again than have her skirt turn that same shade of gross gray.

Again, people weren’t too pleased with Sapphire walking through the crowd, but she was done with trying to figure out the etiquette behind dealing with crowds. It was all far too complicated for her to want to pay attention to the reactions of those she pushed past. What did catch her attention however, was a sudden dell in the crowd—people giving something a wide berth. She pushed herself up on her tiptoes to look over the shoulder of the man in front of her and saw a Mareep, defensively crouched low to the ground with it’s wooly pelt crackling.

Sapphire blinked and then blinked again.

It was the fluffiest thing she’d ever seen.

Perhaps it was a bit impulsive to do so, but Sapphire broke through the the crowd and reached a hand out to the Mareep. Sure, she had spent her entire life dealing with wild, untamed Pokémon and knew how to properly handle frightened ones, but all of that glorious fluff was intoxicating. She just had to hold it.

Sapphire blinked and then blinked again.

It was entirely expected when electricity jolted through her body.

Sparks discharged from the staticy wool of the Mareep and a strangled gasp escaped her mouth as her hands made contact with the fluffy goodness that was this Pokémon. The Mareep made a sort of baa-ing sound at her and butted Sapphire's hands away from her head with her stubby horns.

“Aw, don’t be that way, fluffy,” Sapphire cooed and reached out again.

This time, realizing that Sapphire didn’t intend to hurt her, the Mareep stayed deathly still. Slowly, it’s wooly coat unfluffed slightly and the sparks jumping from strand to strand dissipated. The slightly less fluffy Mareep would have been upsetting in theory, but that Pokémon was still the fluffiest thing she’d ever seen.

The Mareep eyed her cautiously and only protested with a single, drawn out baa when Sapphire picked it up, cradling the Pokémon in her arms. “You’re coming with me,” She paused, taking a moment to think of a name and thought of her siblings’ Pokémons, “Melody…Yeah, that sounds right. Sapphire and Melody, ready to become best friends with a Pokédex in hand.”

Sapphire continued through the rest of the crowd to get to the back of the house, people jumping out of their way as sparks bounced off of Melody's coat and landed on people standing in their way. She could tell that she and Melody were gonna get along quite well. Upon reaching the desolate back of the house, she noticed there was definitely a door. It didn’t look like it was made of wood, however, as it was bulky and cold to the touch. The door didn’t even have a handle, just a keypad and the numbers 3674 scratched into the door above it.

Punching the numbers in seemed to simple of a solution, but she tried anyways.

Nothing happened.

Sapphire peered closer at the keypad as she typed the given code again. There were two small lights on the keypad, and—dimly recognizing the lights as red and green respectively—she guessed that it was supposed to light up to indicate whether the passcode was entered correctly or not.

But those lights remained unlit, taunting her.

Just as she was about to take her hand off of the keypad and think of a new plan, Melody shifted in her grip and made an odd noise. By the time she realized that was the sound of building static charge and not Melody trying to communicate, she already felt the current pass through her. Being zapped a second time was much more painful than the first, unsurprisingly, and her ears rang in the most horrendous way possibly.

“OW, Melody, why did you do that?” Sapphire whined, but as the ringing cleared from her ears she realized that she heard a new sound under the cloak of the crowd. A soft hum of machinery starting up. A grin spread across her face, and she started to punch the combination in again as she chirped, “I see what you did. Good work, Melody!”

The green light flared up promisingly.  
  


* * *

 

 

**LEE BRONNE — "Bardic"**

 

Lee Bronne was a man of many talents, a jack of all trades, and yet a master of none. He had mostly been saddled with grunt work back under the tutelage of Team Rocket in Johto and had never been trusted with a Pokémon of his own. The wide variety of assignments they gave him had him running around, learning skills at a moment’s notice, and moving on before he got a chance to hone anything. There was a lot that he could do, but not much he could do well.

Well, that is besides music. Lee fancied himself a pretty decent musician, and even had dreams rattling around in the back of his head about becoming an international music sensation with a rocking Meloetta. Never mind that it was a mythical Pokémon that may or may not exist, he could do what he wanted in his fantasy world.

He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do, but he knew that he wanted something different from his life in Team Rocket. That wasn’t for him, as it shouldn’t be for anyone. He barely even remembered how he initially got involved with that shady group of Pokémon-stealers. There was only a vague recollection of Kobe’s outstretched hand and a promise distorted by time.

He was done with that, though.

No more Team Rocket, no more letting others decide his morals, and no more grunt work.

He was going to seize the opportunity, meet Mortimer Crim, and embark on a wild adventure of heroic proportions.

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a pretty good change of pace.

\---

As it seemed like he always was, Lee Bronne was late. He had spent too much time poking around weird antique store in the Lower Bailey and missed the morning trolley, ending up forced to wait for the one that left the station before noon. So, here he was, running through the crowded streets of Helm and shouting out apologies as he knocked people out of his way. He was just doing what had to be done to cling to the scrap of a chance at getting a Pokédex from the Mortimer Crim.

He would be panting and sweating from the exertion of sprinting several city blocks on any day, but the overbearing heat of the southern spring sun made his skin slick with sweat. To be frank, it felt quite gross but that was just another sacrifice he had to make in the name of change. All great aspiring heroes and trainers had to learn to make sacrifices for the greater good. He had to start somewhere, so enduring the sticky layer of sweat was his start to learn how to be a great hero. Mortimer Crim probably made his first heroic sacrifice in the same vein, now that he thought of it.

Lee ducked and weaved his way through the masses of roving people, on their way to work or a shop or just walking. Only two blocks from his destination, he passed a row of carts and stands with steaming food laid out, the irresistible scent of spices and cooked meats overwhelming him. He found himself pausing and crossing the street with his mind set on purchasing a bag of roasted nuts.

"Mortimer Crim wouldn’t miss the chance of a lifetime for a bag of roasted nuts!" He reminded himself out loud, and garnering the attention of a few startled passerbys. He was going to be a trainer soon, and Pokémon trainers are heroes. He couldn’t be led astray by tantalizing snacks. Lee continued, hands confidently on his hips, “No matter how delicious or appetizing, I won’t be seduced by the sultry clutches of roasted nuts."

It took a moment for him to realize he had stopped and made this declaration in the middle of the street, so he scurried back to the crowded safety of the sidewalk. He noticed that now people parted out of his way, making the last bit of his journey go much more smoothly. Dodging people and navigating crowds was fun and all, but by this point Lee was really feeling the heat and the nervous energy that jittered through him.

When he came to Crim’s house he skidded to a stop, briefly losing his balance from the sudden loss of momentum but quickly regaining his footing. The house was a bit of an anomaly in Helm, set apart from the other, closely touching buildings that lined the streets. There was even grass under his boots, he noticed, although it was stamped down from people walking on it all day. Seems like becoming a Pokémon professor was more than just a split-second decision for Mortimer Crim.

Lee Bronne paused and pursed his lips, taking in the lay of the land.

One could never be too careful when heading into the lawlessness of a battleground.

What caught his eye was a small girl with vibrant blue hair questioning a very uncomfortable looking man in worn clothing. He made eye contact with the scruffy dude, who gave Lee a sort of pleading look. Just answer her! Lee attempted to gesture with wide, totally inconspicuous sweeping gestures.

The guy furrowed his brow then looked down at the creepy teen and, rubbing his neck, Lee overheard him respond, “I dunno, Crim’s not actually here or something? A couple o’ people have just kinda walked in though.”

The weird kid disengaged without saying anything else and disappeared into the crowd. Lee grinned at the confused man, staring in her direction, and gave him a thumbs up when he turned back. That information actually helped him too, so he made a mental note to thank the dutiful civilian later for assisting an upcoming hero.

Once again, Lee took the lay of the land, this time trying to figure out his own way in. It was probably some sort of test, a way to weed out the prospective trainers not dedicated nor motivated enough. Lee Bronne, however, was a motherfucking hero-in-training.

As he was scanning over the crowd and house, a noise different from the buzz of the crowd registered in his hearing. It was a faint whimpering, high-pitched and hardly audible. He craned his neck, searching for the search of the whine. Unable to find whatever was emitting that noise amongst the crowd, he began to follow the sound in the direction he guessed it originated from.

A few feet in the thick of the crowd, stood a shaking Pokémon with its eyes shut tight. Pink, round, and two feet high, he didn’t remember it at first. Looking closer, he saw the Pokémon’s ears moving up and down, covering and uncovering tiny holes on its head. “Shit, a Whismur!” He exclaimed excitedly. His sudden outburst startled the already frightened creature, causing it to scream at a deafening pitch.

All around him, people stumbled back and clutched their hands to their ears. Lee, not the brightest tool in the shed, covered one of his ears and picked up the crying Whismur with his free arm. It flailed in his grip, crying louder and with increasing volume.

The next few moments seemed to slow down. In his peripheral vision, Lee saw a bright plume of fire and the stench of burning wood hit him immediately. He dimly felt something wet slide down the side of his face and when he licked his lips, he was overpowered by the taste of what was distinctly blood. The majority of the crowd dispersed rapidly, almost in a panic as the literally deafening shrieks of the Whismur and blaze of fire occurred simultaneously.

Lee Bronne found himself standing in a nearly empty yard, watching the man from earlier desperately try to stop the flames consuming the wooden front door of Mortimer Crim’s house.

 

* * *

 

 

**CRISPIN ASCALON — "Wanderlust"**

 

Crispin was ready for a change in his life, and that change would be his attitude—nothing too drastic like abandoning his lifestyle, family, or home to completely start over. Nope, just a simple flip of the switch in his head. He had remained an observer for far too long, tagging along with others on their own adventures without forging a path of his own.

For the past two years, Crispin had been living on the road in Atla, journeying from city to city and taking in the sights. It wasn’t as excited as it sounded though, because he wasn’t a trainer of any sort and didn’t even have a single Pokémon. He had just felt like it wasn’t for him, kinda like how not being a pretentious overachiever wasn’t for Lyle.

But, now, he itched for a change in pace, in thinking, in how he and others perceived him. Picking up a Pokédex seemed like a pretty decent way to initiate that change. It wasn’t like he wanted to be more like Lyle, the doctor-trainer extraordinaire, but less like the son that his mother frantically tried to locate and scold into “doing something productive with his life”.

Maybe some more social stability would do him some good, rather than the constant array of changing faces he travelled with from city to city, but never for much longer. It wasn’t settling down, like his mother would prefer, but it was a middle ground to get the sort of home he wanted.

\---

Crispin had been in Helm for the past few days, so he actually arrived at Mortimer Crim’s house rather early in the day. Even with his punctuality, he was already blocked from the door by a mob of people on the lawn in front of the ashen gray house. He frowned, leaning forward and putting his weight on his walking stick.

Biting his lip, he scanned the crowd and tried to think of a plan. He desperately wanted to be a trainer under Mortimer Crim, but there were so many other people that seemed more well equipped. Maybe it would be best if he left it to other people, far more suited to training and caring for Pokémon.

But…something bade him stay a little while longer, observing the anxiety and confusion of the crowd. All it took was for one person, a short man with pompous hair, to stroll into the house with unfounded confidence for a chain reaction of events to trigger. Time unfolded in front of him and he caught a flash of something greater. A hand gripping his arm in a vice violently ripped him from his thoughts, however,

"Why is everyone so upset?” Came a flat voice, oddly level and calm amongst the restlessness of the day.

Crispin jumped, “Shit, kid, you scared me,” and he stumbled back, knocking into someone behind him. The short girl with electric blue hair and eyes stared at him unblinkingly, fingernails still digging into the soft flesh of his skin.

He looked around desperately and locked gazes with a golden-eyed teen in front of him. The girl repeated herself and asked, “Why is everyone so upset?” as he mentally urged the stranger to just do something to save him from this haunted doll of a teenager. In response, the other kid flapped his arms around unhelpfully.

Clearing his throat, he mumbled, “I dunno, Crim’s not actually here or something? A couple o’ people have just kinda walked in though.”

A pause.

“Oh, okay.”

Crispin blinked and blinked again. Both of the kids were gone, suddenly disappeared from his line of sight.

“Well, uh, that was weird,” he said to no one in particular.

More time passed, minutes crawling by at an agonizing pace, when a weight suddenly slammed into the small of his back. Surprised, he slipped on the cane he was leaning on, and he nearly fell head over heels. In actuality, he just crumpled to the ground—face first—in a useless heap. He heard a few surprised gasps around him, some asking if he was okay, and one exclaiming, “IS THAT A CHIMCHAR?”.

Turns out it was, indeed, a Chimchar that struck his back.

The Pokémon, realizing she hurt Crispin, crawled off his his back and plopped herself in front of his face. With curious fingers, she squished his cheeks and made soft noises at him as if asking 'Are you okay?’.

Crispin pushed himself back to his feet, brushing off the grass and debris on his patchy pants, and looked down at the small monkey. Something about her wide gray eyes melted his heart into a puddle. Or maybe it was the heat from her tail melting his skin into a mess of sweat. Either way, he gently picked the Chimchar up in his arms. The Pokémon seemed happy to be picked up, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Aren’t you the cutest?” Crispin grinned and patted her soft head, “I’ll call you Beans.”

An idea struck him, slowly but suddenly at the same time. There was no way to describe as the realization dawned on him that maybe this was just some sort of test from Crim. How else was he supposed to pick six trainers from a crowd of hundreds? Cautiously and not entirely confident in this revelation, he pushed his way through the crowd. People seemed willing to let him pass with the Chimchar held tightly in his arms.

He reached the front door and saw the note that read ‘Out for lunch’, but didn’t have time to react before an eardrum-shattering cry erupted from behind him. Instinctively, he clamped his hands to his ears, dropping poor, innocent Beans in the process. She had dozed off slightly and was startled awake by the sudden noise and movement, her tail igniting in a blaze of flame. It stretched outwards, the flames catching at the wooden door, which then erupted in a roiling ball of fire.

The crowd surrounding the house broke away in a panic, as Crispin tried to beat out the flames with his jacket. Beans, feeling bad for the destruction she caused, whimpered and gripped onto Crispin’s leg. He would have paused and reassured her that it wasn’t her fault, that she had been scared by the sudden screaming, but he was a bit preoccupied with the door on fire. The door slammed open, and a gush of water hit Crispin in the sternum and threw him back several feet. Luckily, Beans was safe from the blast and the door was now very much not on fire.

Soaking wet and panicked, Crispin glanced up and saw the imposing figure of the Mortimer Crim standing by the side of a Swanna. “So,” he began in a booming voice, “we finally have our six trainers gathered."


	3. Extraneous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Briefly unstuck in time, Shira Snow misses her chance to receive a Pokédex from the Mortimer Crim. But, as luck may have it, she finds an oddly-colored Pokémon in the streets of Helm.

* * *

 

** Shira Snow — “Extraneous”  **

 

Shira wandered through the streets of Helm with little thought as to where she was going. Hands shoved in her pockets and head tilted down, she watched her feet as she walked over the cobbled sidewalks of Helm. The overbearing heat of the spring sun beat down on her neck, reminding her that it was well into the afternoon. She couldn't believe the _sun_ was flipping her off. It was like one of those cartoons with the sun wearing sunglasses and a shit eating grin, but it was flipping her the bird with it's goddamned stylized hands. Honestly, _fuck_ the sun. On a regular day, she hated the sun with an intense passion, but today it was nothing but a huge _FUCK YOU!_ , a reminder that somehow a handful of hours passed by without her realizing it.

 

She had intended to arrive at Mortimer Crim's laboratory early in the morning and ensure herself a definite spot as one of the six trainers receiving Pokédexes from him. He was a legend among people, ushering stability into the tempestuous region of Atla. For years he was the uncontested champion of Atla, and now he was making waves by entering the field of Pokémon study as a Professor. No one really knew why he was doing it, but everyone was clambering to be taught as a trainer by him. 

 

Glancing up, Shira suddenly realized that at some point she had turned onto an unfamiliar street. None of the shops nor the faded street signs looked recognizable as she turned around in a circle, frantically trying to reorient herself in the busy streets of Helm. A bit desperate, she turned a random corner and was immediately assaulted by the sound of someone yelling, “No matter how delicious or appetizing, I won’t be seduced by the sultry clutches of roasted nuts.” 

 

She furrowed her brow and watched as a boy around her age bolted from the middle of the street to the sidewalk. He was running without any concern to the people around him. There wasn’t a chance to react before he pushed past her, a pointed elbow slamming into her side.“FUCK,” she swore loudly, glaring daggers at the hyper teen’s back as he disappeared in the crowd. 

 

This day was going great. Just great.

 

Frustrated, lost, and with a throbbing side, Shira retreated to the first alley she saw. There was a gap between two old buildings, barely large enough for her to be able to stretch both her arms outwards. It was shaded from the sun and noise, the overpowering hum of the crowd fading to an acceptable background noise. She stumbled forward a few feet, bracing herself against the wall with one shaking hand, before sliding to the ground and pulling her knees up to her chest. 

 

With shaking breaths, she tried to formulate some sort of plan. Nothing came to mind, which only frustrated her more. Why had she lost those few precious hours of time? It had thrown her entire future out of focus. The goal of becoming a top tier trainer seemed to crumble in the moment. It seemed as though she would never be able to make the necessary connections to find out what happened to her family without it. Her fingers curled more deeply into her palms, scraping at the loose flecks of the road’s gravel.

 

From further down the alley came a soft noise, a sort of whine. It pulled her out of her teenage angst and quarter-life existential crisis, and her head whipped to the side. A Pokémon, demure and with a blood spattered face, attempted to fluff up it ' s silvery fur to look larger and more threatening. For a moment she didn't register that it was an Eevee, briefly confused by its unnatural coloring. One of its eyes was squinted shut, its body trembling pathetically. 

 

Shira cautiously stretched out one of her hands to the injured Pokémon, and tried to coo soothingly to it in her raspy voice, "I'm not gonna hurt you." 

 

The Eevee scooted back and lowered its head to the ground, baring its teeth and half-heartedly growling.

 

She scowled, "Oh, fuck off, you're too pathetic looking for me to want to hurt you." It tilted its head and relaxed slightly, suddenly confused by the change in tone. "Come here you dumb shit, you're bleeding everywhere." 

 

Still wary of her presence, the Pokémon made no move to approach Shira but instead sat back on its haunches and flattened down its fur. She took this as an okay for getting closer and scooted over to it without standing up. With careful fingers, she ran one hand through the knotted mane of poofy white fur and used the other to examine the wound on the Eevee's face. There was a deep slash across the left side of its face, and she worried over the condition of its left eye. It was possible that whatever had hurt the Eevee permanently damaged its eye, but it flinched away when she tried to gently look under its scrunched-tight lids.

 

"I can't keep calling you 'the Eevee' and 'it'. What do you want to be called?" Shira mused as she combed her fingers through the white fur of its mane. No response. "Hmm...How do you feel about Moira?" 

 

The Eevee blinked at her curiously, almost as if asking about the name.

 

"I dunno, you remind me of someone I'm close to. She also is specially-colored like you and me," She rasped softly. For some reason, she felt compelled to talk to the Pokémon as if it—she—was a small child. It probably wasn't a bad idea since Moira was injured, scared, and not quite sure what was happening. 

 

Moira stood up and shook out her fur, padding forward and crawling into Shira's lap. Uncertain and timid, she nestled into her grip tentatively, wanting to seek comfort and willing to give this stranger a chance. 

 

\---

 

Shira was suddenly snapped awake by a caring hand resting on her cheek. A strangled noise escaped her as panic gripped her briefly, her groggy mind not yet processing what woke her up. Blinking away the weariness, she noticed a Blissey with pitch black eyes looking down at her. Moira stirred in her sleep, and Shira pulled her closer to her chest. She knew that a Blissey, of all Pokémon, would never hurt her, but something made her oddly protective of the slumbering Eevee. 

 

Her eyes fluttered shut again and she breathed in deeply, feeling a calming energy flow from the Blissey to her. When she opened her eyes again, the tension had left her shoulders, and she was content. She had heard about a Blissey's tranquil aura but never experienced it before now. It was one of the most satisfying things she's felt in a while. Muscles she didn't even know were tensed before now loosened and worries flowed through her thoughts, not being ignored but also not being fixated on. She could still hear the background static of the crowded streets, but it didn't irritate or grate on her like the noise had before. 

 

For a few moments she let herself remain in the peace that the Blissey's presence imposed on her, but she knew that she couldn't sit there forever. She had to continue her life, and, besides, Moira needed medical attention. Standing up on shaky legs, the nurse Pokémon tugged at the loose fabric of her pants, indicating that she needed to follow. Shira nodded wordlessly and clutched Moira tightly but careful not to wake her. 

 

The sun had started to dip below the horizon, and she was mildly surprised at how long she had been dozing in the alleyway. She was also salty. Very, very salty. There still was no clue in her mind about how she lost a few hours earlier in the day, as she had most definitely not fallen asleep—she had been walking through the streets of Helm and blinked, suddenly with the sun overhead rather than peaking out of the morning clouds. 

 

So salty.

 

She let the Blissey lead her through the streets of Helm with a wary sense of trust. The only reason there was that thread of trust was because all she had to lose was the Eevee cuddled in her arms, and she knew that any Blissey wouldn’t hurt a defenseless, injured creature. So, with tentative steps, she followed the Pokémon to whatever destination. 

 

After walking a few blocks through slightly less crowded streets, she realized that that she was being taken in the direction of Mortimer Crim’s house. Varying feelings twisted in her gut—apprehension, confusion, and hope. She realized with a sigh of relief that there was still a chance for the future that she planned.

 

Shira blinked and then blinked again. 

 

The house seemed nice at a first glance, having its own yard unlike almost every other house in Helm, but it was a complete mess. Grass and bits of turf were kicked up, leaving the yard looking like a herd of Bouffalant stampeded through it. The front door was charred and hanging loosely off its hinges, awkwardly placed to try to make it look like the door wasn’t as broken as it was. A low-lying window was broken and—holy _shit_ —was that _blood_? 

 

The lab of the supposedly heroic and noble Mortimer Crim was, to politely put it, a fucking wreck. 

 

The Blissey tugged at her pants harder, trying to urge her onward, and Shira realized that she had dumbly been stopped in her tracks by the sheer mess of a house in front of her. She nodded down at the nurse Pokémon apologetically, and followed her through the yard. Upon coming to the door, the Blissey politely knocked on it’s charred and soaked remains. 

 

“Who’s there?” A deep voice called out with an annoyed edge, as if interrupted in the middle of something. 

 

“Uh–your Blissey, it brought me here,” Shira responded, awkwardly shifting her weight to try to relieve some of the strain in her sore arms. Moira was still snoozing happily, but she was not the lightest creature around.

 

“Ah, Taranga, you’re finally back,” The person said, almost in a sing-song way if a drunken slur could be considered sing-song, and the broken door was moved out of the way. 

 

Shira blinked and then blinked again.

 

The man—Mortimer Crim, presumably—seemed handsome at a first glance, being rugged and fit, but was a complete mess. His lab coat was a stained off-white and hung off one shoulder, the sleeve engulfing a hand gripped loosely around a bottle of an unidentifiable alcohol. He had a forest of chest hair yet his facial hair was stubbly in patches.

 

Mortimer Crim was, to politely put it, a debacle comparable to riding a flaming unicycle. You couldn’t help but watch and be simultaneously amazed and horrified in equal parts.And, _oh boy_ , was she amazed and horrified by this renown man.

 

She didn’t have the chance to collect her thoughts before he saw the battered state of the Eevee in her arms, “Shit, come in.” Crim turned around, his wrinkled lab coat swishing in a rather unmajestic manner, and Taranga followed him hurriedly. 

 

Shira was, again, made to follow. 

 

It didn’t take long upon walking into a large living room for Shira to realize that Mortimer Crim was not the only drunk one in this house. Despite everyone looking quite young, two of the boys were splayed across the carpet and talking as they shared a bottle of what appeared to be cheap wine. Her heart stopped and she realized that the pompous blond one with a Zubat tangled in his hair drinking on the floor was a very familiar ponce. 

 

“ _Zappa_?” She blurted out, scowling, “What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

 

Dweezil’s head snapped up, “Wait, _Snow_? What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

 

If she didn’t have her arms full of white fluff, she would have crossed them over her chest in contempt, “I asked you first.”

 

“Well, I asked you second,” He retorted back, a goofy grin pulling up his lips as if he was the most clever person in the world for thinking of that comeback. But, no, he was just drunk. 

 

Another voice, soft yet most certainly not timid, cut through Shira’s thoughts, “Crim, who is this?” 

 

Shifting her gaze, Shira saw a girl with long black hair and a speckled egg cradled in the crook of her elbow. The girls’ expression was curious, yet wary, and she angled her body so that the egg was further from Shira. Huh, she mused silently, that one’s not as demure as she wants to appear. 

 

“This is, uh, fuck,” Crim started to introduce her but then realized that he, himself, knew nothing about her but that his Blissey had brought her here. He turned to face her, hands on his hips, “What did you say your name was?”

 

“I’m Shira. Shira Snow.” 

 

An expression of surprise crossed his face, but before Shira could examine it more closely, he smoothed his features back into its relaxed and drunk state. “Snow, you say? As in the Snow clan from Tartan City?”She nodded, eyebrows furrowed. “Introductions can come later, we need to get that Pokémon of yours looked at.” 

 

Crim stepped forward and made a move to take Moira from her arms, but Shira pulled her out of his reach, “Heal her, but you can’t take her,” she coldly stated. 

 

He huffed, but respected her stubborn resolve, and motioned Shira to walk into another room. It was much more clean and organized than the rest of the house, the surfaces a sterile and cold metal. She saw Taranga put something on the counter into the drawer, and she concluded that the tidiness of the lab-like room was probably due to her influence. This room was probably a pseudo-clinic to deal with emergencies like the injured Eevee, so it made sense that the Blissey would keep it so meticulously clean. Shira gently lowered Moira’s sleeping form and placed her on the chilled, metal table. Almost immediate, she was pushed away by Taranga and Crim getting to work on examining the injured Pokémon. 

 

Watching the trainer and Pokémon duo identify Moira’s injuries and promptly remedy that. Minutes ticked by, Taranga rushing from the table to cabinets to fetch supplies for Crim then back to Crim to hand the supplies off and then to Shira to calm her with her aura and then back to the table to see what else was needed. The Pokémon’s actions were fluid, an innate understanding flowing between her and Crim, and no words needed to be exchanged to patch up their patient.

 

Outside of the exam room, Shira could hear a strange mix of laughter and arguing. She pinched the bridge of her nose, irritated and feeling a migraine coming on. Was it too much to ask for some peace and quiet? God _damn_ the streets of Helm seemed like a blissfully silent haven compared to this house. Hyperbole or not, Shira Snow did not have the patience for this.

 

As luck would have it, Crim and Taranga were just finishing up with Moira. Turning to look at her—snapping rubber gloves off his hands and tossing them to the side, just missing a waste bin—he sighed and broke the news to her, “I don’t know how y’r Eevee got in such bad shape; her wounds are too precise to be done by another Pokémon. To make a long story short, her left eye is permanently damaged.” 

 

“Oh.” _Wow, nice response, jackass,_ Shira bitterly thought to herself. 

 

Crim nodded and, without ceremony, made to head out of the door. He paused, just short of it, and tilted his head back at her, adding, “You and Moira should come out to where everyone else is when you’re ready.” She said nothing and watched Taranga scurry out of the room after him, picking up the haphazardly discarded gloves and throwing them away as she left. 

 

Shira approached the table and held her hand out to the groggy Moira, letting her sniff it and recognize her. Moira, tired and in pain but calmed by Shira’s presence, butted her head into the palm of the offered hand. A soft noise between a trill and a purr bubbled up in the Eevee’s throat, and Shira smiled. 

 

Shira approached the table and held her hand out to the groggy Moira, letting her sniff it and recognize her. Moira, tired and in pain but calmed by Shira’s presence, butted her head into the palm of the offered hand. A soft noise between a trill and a purr bubbled up in the Eevee’s throat, and Shira smiled. It wasn’t a very prominent smile, just a slight upturn of her lips, but it shook her at her core. Something about this Eevee pulled at her heart strings, and she didn’t mind it. 

 

“C’mon, let’s go meet those fucks,” Shira cooed, once again scooping up her new, white and fluffy friend in her sore arms—she wasn’t that used to lifting anything for an extended period of time, and it was really beginning to show in the sluggish movement of her arms. 

 

She exited the room and retracted her steps to find the living room, still as messy as ever. Now that she wasn’t as flustered, she was able to look at the people in the room more closely as Mortimer Crim gestured for everyone to quiet down, “Shira, these are the six trainers that are receiving Pokédexes from me. But, with your interesting circumstances...I can handle giving a seventh out.”

 

Surprise blossomed in her stomach, and she stared at Crim, nearly slack jawed. 

 

Hell. Fucking. Yes.

 

“Now that we have that out of the way, I believe introductions are in order.” 

 

The soft-voiced girl from earlier was the first to speak up, “I’m Lolani Arbor. My starter is this Togepi egg.”

 

Shira _had_ planned to passively let introductions happen and not pay too much attention, but that was too weird to pass up. “Wait so your starter Pokémon is a fucking egg?” 

 

“Togepi just isn’t ready to come out yet,” Lolani firmly stated with a glare, protectively clutching the egg tighter. 

 

“Name’s Ragna Red,” Spoke up a large man with tanned skin and—quite frankly gross—bulging muscles, “and this Oddish is Egg.”

 

Dweezil was no longer drinking out of a wine bottle on the floor and instead fixed his hair while looking into a mirror hanging askew on a wall, the Zubat curled around his neck, “You know me, but this Zubat is Ugly Fuck.”

 

“Ugh,” Lolani grunted, “Do you really need to call your starter Pokémon _that_?”

 

“Well what else would I call it? It’s accurate—this creature is the _ugliest_ of fucks."

 

“How about a middle ground—U.F.?” Piped up the lanky one with a Chimchar crawling on his head. “By the way, I’m Crispin Ascalon. This cutie is Beans.” 

 

The kid that had elbowed her earlier in the day was apparently also in the room, a bandage wrapped around his head and covering one of his ears. His face contorted oddly, “U.F? That’s too hard to say, what about Uf?” 

 

“ _Oeuf_? I thought that it was Ragna’s Pokémon that’s named Egg?” A girl with unnaturally blue hair asked, confused, while petting a sleeping Mareep. 

 

Ragna crossed his arms over his chest as Egg tapped around his feet, “Fine, the Zubat is named Uf. _Aaaanyways_ ,” He turned and jabbed a finger in the direction of the two kids, “That’s Lee Bronne and Sapphire Song. The Mareep is Melody, and the Whismur is, uh…I don’t actually think Lee gave her a name.”

 

Lee Bronne protested that loudly, “She has a _name_. What kind of person do you think I am?” 

 

“Okay, they what _is_ her name?” 

 

“That’s,” Lee stuttered over his response, "that’s none of your business!” 

 

“Mhm,” Ragna turned back to face Shira, “The Whismur doesn’t have a name yet."

 

Shira looked over the group of new trainers and Pokémon, and she only had one question for them—“Is Sapphire’s hair _really_ blue?”

 


	4. Seeing Double

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weather is nice and the path to Mayfield is clear of all danger

** **

* * *

 

**Lolani Arbor — “Seeing Double”**

 

Lolani sat on the ground, settled comfortably between the coffee table and empty couch,her legs crossed and egg nestled in her lap. On the table was a steaming pot of tea that Taranga had set out earlier and two empty tea cups. The tea set was a plain robin’s egg blue, but with elegantly so with sparse gold embellishments. Pouring herself some of the aromatic jasmine tea, she watched with a mixture of amusement and annoyance as her newfound companions bickered over whether or not Sapphire's hair was naturally blue.  

 

The argument was silly and petty and...completely valid. No one's hair could be that vibrantly blue from birth, yet Lolani would not be surprised if the nearly doll-like girl just _had_ blue hair. Whenever she looked at Sapphire's face for too long, her stomach rolled with unease—she couldn’t recall seeing her blink. So creepy but entirely _adorable_ , cuddled into the cotton candy fur of her Mareep.

 

Crim had disappeared into another part of the house with Taranga, Kova, and Fie, leaving the young trainers alone with their own Pokémon. As the argument died down—being killed by an inappropriate comment made about hair by Dweezil, Ragna decking him in the face, and Sapphire humming cluelessly—people separated into their own groups to get to know each other better. Dweezil and Crispin, having already bonded over a bottle of cheap wine, curled up on both halves on a loveseat. Lee and Sapphire, already two sides of the same naive yet terrifying coin, had somehow roped a brooding Shira into a conversation.

 

That left her and Ragna.

 

She watched the tall, imposing man approach with Egg bouncing happily behind him. Even with knowing him for a few short hours, Lolani felt like she knew Ragna better than most people. He was scary at a first glance, being _well_ over six feet and having taken care to maintain a fit and muscular form. It didn't take the most observant person to realize the split between the assumption his appearance left you with and the stern yet caring man that Ragna actually was. A walking juxtaposition, you could say. And, being more perceptive than most,  she realized that this was a split that Ragna himself hadn't quite reconciled. Knowing that Oddish's evolution tree split, Lolani wondered what path he would take in the months to come.

 

Smiling softly, Lolani gestured for Ragna to sit next to her on the ground. He did so, albeit awkwardly because of his bulk and where Lolani was seated, chuckling as Egg launched himself headfirst into his lap. Egg really was a ray of sunshine, too precious to even exist.

 

“So, what brings you here?” Ragna asked, a hand nestled in the leaves on Egg’s head.

 

Her brow furrowed, “What do you mean by that?”

 

“Well,” he started, “you’re not from around here—aren’t you?”

 

Lolani tilted her head, a bit startled that Ragna had picked up on that detail. She wasn’t aware that it was apparent enough for one to realize. “No, I’m not. How did you–?”

 

Ragna interrupted her with a wave of his hand, “You look like you feel out of place.”

 

“I guess I do feel out of place,” She affirmed and ran her fingers along the smooth, glossy surface of the egg in her lap.

 

“Sooo?” He prompted, urging her to answer as to where she came from.

 

She hesitated to respond, wary of how much outsiders knew of the political turmoil in Unova, and carefully answered, “I’m from Lacunosa Town in Unova,” each word with a slight edge, a warning to not pry.

 

Seems Ragna was also a perceptive person. Raising an eyebrow, he let the subject drop and poured himself a cup of tea, mentioning, “I’m not from nearly as far; born and raised in the Wall and living in Mayfield.”

 

“The Wall?” She echoed. The words sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint the meaning behind them.

 

“It’s where the Atla Pokémon League is—the biannual conference, Elite Four, champion..”

 

Lolani considered that for a few moments, her lips pursed in thought. He must be a pretty big fan of Mortimer Crim’s if he grew up so close to where that sort of action was happening. Maybe he watched hopeful trainers go against the reigning champ as a wide-eyed child, pushing himself on his toes to see over crowds of fans and saw as they were overcome by the prowess Crim had in battle. She wondered what he thought now that he met the rundown champion who hardly seemed to be the hero type. Crim was _so_ legendary that she had heard of him even in Unova, and now it was dawning on her that he was just a _guy._ A guy with a couple of Pokémon and the stench of alcohol following him around. Glancing at Ragna’s face and seeing his expression, she could tell that he was also mulling over his misconceptions of who had likely been a childhood idol.

 

She nursed her hot cup of tea now that there was a comfortable lull in the conversation, both content enough to sit in each other’s company. It was always a relief when she found someone else without a need to fill the space with empty chatter. She held fast to the belief that bonds are formed more steadily in the silence rather than meaningless small talk. You can watch someone, see their thought process, and enjoy their presence.

 

Soon thereafter, Mortimer Crim appeared in one of the doorways leading out of the messy living room with his Pyroar, Fie, lazily padding behind. He cleared his throat to gather everyone’s attention, and a hush fell over the room. “If you will all follow me into the lab, then I’ll hand out Pokédexes and get everyone’s lives figured out,” came the booming announcement, his hearty voice warm and welcoming.

 

Lolani placed the cup back on its saucer and stood up, carefully cradling the egg as to not bump it against the edge of the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ragna struggling to stand up without moving the table, and Egg doing the opposite of helping as he skittered around. A hand flew up to cover her mouth as she laughed, quiet and breathy; Ragna was trying so hard to be courteous of Crim’s furniture and Egg’s wellbeing even though she doubted that either party would _care._ It was cute. Or, as cute as a six foot eight bodybuilder could be.

 

Along with everyone else, Lolani followed Crim through the hallways of his house. The walls were bare and floors cluttered with dust-covered boxes. She saw Lee Bronne turn and kick the side of a box filled with newspaper clippings, a cloud of dust being thrown into the air. The Whimsur walking at his side got a face full of the debris, inhaled it, and let out a soft cry. Everyone froze as the sensitive Pokémon started to whimper at a steady rhythm, growing louder with each shout as it startled itself.

 

Within seconds, the unnamed Whismur let loose a hellish shriek, and Lolani’s palms flew up to clap over her ears in an attempt to muffle the noise. She nearly dropped her egg due to the instinctive reaction, but quickly nestled it between her elbow and side. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes from the pain of the _literally_ deafening crying. “ _LEE BRONNE,”_ She shouted in anger and frustration because he just _had_ to kick up a dust storm.

 

“Wh- _what?”_ He responded panickedly, one hand over his uninjured ear and the other frantically trying to calm the Whismur, “I didn’t do _anything!_ Swear to Arceus!”

 

Ragna hit the back of Lee’s head with his elbow as Lolani pushed forward, carefully passing her egg to Ragna who held it in the same manner she had. With a bitter edge to her voice, she snapped to Lee Bronne, “That’s not how you handle a scared Pokémon.” She placed her foot on Lee’s stomach and pushed him back, out of the reach of the frightened Whismur. While the seemingly _incompetent_ new trainer voiced his offense, she kneeled to get on the Whismur’s level. Humming gently, Lolani tried to calm the creature. Whismur looked up, still warbling horribly, but began to quiet as a softer voice entered her hearing, cutting through the din of her own shrieks. Soon enough, the Whismur’s voice softened to a few hiccuping whimpers as she continued to whisper and coo softly at the frightened Pokémon.

 

Satisfied that Lee’s Whismur had calmed, she scooped her up and stepped over to Lee, apologizing in a low murmur, “Sorry about, y’know, kicking you, but you need to be more conscious of what you do..”

 

“Yeah, I’m sorry too—just was just joking around, there’s a _ton_ of ancient shit here,” He widely gestured to the same dust-coated boxes that he had hit earlier.

 

She huffed and rolled her eyes, “Do you want to go permanently deaf?”

 

“No?” Lee Bronne responded, the pitch of his voice raising in confusion.

 

“Well, Whismur is sensitive and you need to respect that if you want to keep your hearing in your other ear,” she snapped, carefully handing Whismur to Lee.

 

“ _Right,_ ” Lee affirmed and scratched at the bandage around his one ear, “Screamy Whismur means no more hearing, so I gotta be sure to not hurt her delicate sensibilities.”

 

Lolani didn’t say anything else on the matter, letting the group hang in uncomfortable silence as she retrieved her egg from Ragna’s grip. She thanked him quietly and squared her shoulders, confidently walking down the hall and urging Mortimer Crim to continue onwards. The remainder of the jaunt to the lab was a bit uneasy because of the tension between Lolani and Lee, but it soon dissipated, the party recognizing that to all get along immediately was an unrealistic wish. It was only natural that the seven trainers-to-be, each with a distinct personality of their own, would clash at first, especially in the knowledge that they would soon spend every waking hour in each other’s company.

 

The lab was by no means small, but it certainly wasn’t made to fit seven young adults, their Pokémon, a huge Pyroar, and a worn-out champion. Lolani was jammed between Ragna and Shira, the latter sulkily glaring at the ground as her oddly-colored Eevee snoozed contentedly in her arms. Fie stretched in the center of the lab and laid down, paying no attention to the needs of the trainers around him. Quite a rude Pyroar.

 

Mortimer Crim walked over to a counter with a closed metallic case, presumably holding the Pokédexes that would soon belong to Lolani and her newfound companions. Curious, she pushed herself up onto her tiptoes to try to better see into case as Crim slowly and dramatically opened it, looking back at the gathered group and waggling his brow. Lee groaned exaggeratedly and coerced Dweezil into whining with him. The two only really succeeded in making Crim present the contents of the case at an even more agonizing pace. Fie let out a grumbling roar, peaking open an eye as if to express to his trainer, _get on with it!_

 

“Oh, fine,” Crim relented, almost in a childish whine to Lolani’s surprised, and flung the top open, revealing six brand new Pokédexes gleaming in an array of colors. Excitement flooded her body, her fingers itching to grab one and feel the slick surface. Crim got to work handing them out, which disappointed Lolani a bit as she had wanted to chose her own color as childish as it sounded. Glancing to the side, she noticed Ragna was also pouting slightly and whispered down to her jokingly, “I want a red one.”

 

When he got to her and Shira, the only Pokédex left had a glossy green finish and faint patterns that reminded her of curling vines and flower buds. Without ceremony or pomp, he handed the device over to her then held up a finger, telling her and Shira to wait a moment. He exited through a second door tucked in the corner of the lab, and soon returned with a Pokédex in each hand. One was a dark matte blue with a sort of gray shine, and the other an iridescent ivory that shone with a rainbow of hues as the light hit its surface at different angles. Her face scrunched in confusion as she glanced around—everyone but Shira had already received their Pokédex, so why did Crim return with _two?_

 

Shira nearly snatched hers out of Crim’s hand as the held the matte blue Pokédex out to her, Ragna chuckling in amusement off to the side. Crim made eye contact with him and shrugged, as if to say that he expected Shira’s overzealousness. Finally, Crim turned to Lolani and held the pearlescent Pokédex out to her. She frowned, unsure of what was expected of her as she already had hers in hand.

 

He shook it at her, pulling a fake grumpy expression on his face, “C’mon, don’t you know when something’s being offered to you?”

 

“Yeah bu–” She began to respond hesitantly when Sapphire interrupted.

 

“Why does she get two?” She inquired, head cocked, as she reached a hand out to touch the beautiful rainbow surface of the extra Pokédex, “Can I have a second one?”

 

“ _Lolani_ gets to carry a second—not use it—because she will know what to do with it,” Crim paused and rolled his shoulders back, “Or, I guess, who to give it to.”

 

Still rather confused, but not wanting to voice her opinion of Crim’s sudden bout of madness, she shoved her own Pokédex into the pocket of her skirt and wrapped her fingers around the other tentatively.

 

\---

 

The next morning, Lolani found herself hovering on the edge of Helm with the rest of her companions. Everyone’s breath was held, no one willing to make the first step onto Route 301. A group of Hoppip floated on the wind some fifty feet in front of them, and Egg, recognizing them his grass-type brethren, hopped forward onto the patted down grass path of the route.

 

Dweezil groaned in response, “Ahhh, _fuck,_ of course it’s Egg that starts our”—He raised his voice melodramatically—”JOURNEY OF A LIFETIME for us.” Lee mimed getting shot to Sapphire and flopped over onto the ground, his tongue sticking out of his mouth comically in an attempt to play-dead. Crispin patted Ragna on the shoulder, almost pityingly, as the broad-shouldered trainer moved to retrieve his hopelessly clueless Oddish.

 

There was a bit of restlessness among the group, some miffed at the detour that they were taking at the very beginning of their Journey. Instead of immediately heading towards the first gym in the south end of Bailey City, the entire party had to briefly venture to Mayfield to register as coordinators for the Atla Contest League. It was primarily Lolani that had an interest in becoming a coordinator but Sapphire, Lee, Ragna, and—surprisingly—Shira all decided to register in case they wanted to compete in a contest for the fun of it. That, however, left Dweezil grumbling at how _unfair_ it was to go with the will of the majority of the party and not his own. Crispin was, of course, Crispin and was content enough to be traveling anywhere.

 

Lolani shrugged away the webs of thoughts strung in her mind, distracting her from the beauty of Route 301 and thrill of adventure, and followed after Ragna. She quickly passed him, who was desperately trying to keep Egg from running into the tall grass after the flock of Hoppip that floated into the distance, and slowed to a comfortable pace. It was good to be under the southern Atla sun and feel wind lap at her skin, pulling away beads of sweat that formed in response to the heat of the lazy spring afternoon. The others were chatting amiably behind, although she could occasionally hear Shira cuss at Lee in annoyance, and found herself comfortable with being an observer.

 

The sun slunk higher in the sky, and, although she was not out of shape by any means, her muscles began to tighten and cramp. Thirsty, tired, and sore, she tilted her head back to check the state of her companions. Ragna was doing just fine as she predicted and, surprisingly, was Shira. She had pegged the tall, frighteningly thin teen as physically weak, but she seemed unbothered by the several hours they had spent walking. Moira, who had been curled in her trainer’s arms during the first leg of the day, now trailed behind her and nipped at bits of tree fluff that floated past. Lolani softly smiled at the pair, mentally hoping that Moira would heal and recover her strength swiftly.

 

Ragna, catching her eye, noticed the weary expression plastered on her face and waved for everyone to stop. Loud and chipper, he suggested, “How about we take a lunch break?”

 

Lee, once again, threw himself at the ground in fake death. Apparently he agreed with Ragna’s suggestion.

 

Lolani hadn’t realized how overused the muscles of her legs and arms were until she sat down and felt her muscles clamp in protest. She felt a need to carry the egg in her arms, deriving more comfort from the warmth of it than when it sat in her pack. But, that left her with the dilemma that not once in her life had she ever needed to hold something for an extended period of time, so—although she was muscular in a lithe way—she lacked the right _type_ of muscle in her arm for carrying her precious cargo.

 

Sapphire, her vibrant hair pulled in two bushy pigtails today, settled next to her with Lee in tow. The two had quickly become attached at the hip—whether it was because of their same age or similarity in their naivety, Lolani didn’t know. As he sat, Lee Bronne continued rambling on about some nonsense to Sapphire, who bobbed her head in excited agreement. Then, satisfied that he had finished chattering about that line of thought, he beamed at Lolani, “Isn’t this just _awesome?”_

 

Lolani nodded in agreement, “It’s still a bit surreal; I can’t believe that we really all were given Pokédexes by _the_ Mortimer Crim.”

 

“I know!” He exclaimed, “I mean, _damn,_ I’m all the way from Kanto, and I haven’t stopped internally screaming since we first met him.”

 

Lolani bit back a retort regarding his Whismur’s _external_ screaming, and instead said, “I feel that completely; I’m from Unova, and Crim is still a huge deal there.”

 

“He’s a big deal everywhere,” Sapphire added, “even I heard about him.”

 

“Even you?” Lee parroted, almost uncertainly.

 

“I grew up in the Tartan Forests—just me, my mother, and my two siblings.”

 

“So,” Lolani paused, pursing her lips, “is this your first time out of the Tartan Quarter?”

 

Sapphire grinned and nodded, her pigtails bouncing around her head. Melody, noticing the movement of her curly locks, glanced up and playful grabbed the end of one pigtail in her mouth. Saph narrowed her eyes and swatted at her Mareep with gentle hands in mock annoyance. Again, Lolani couldn’t keep herself from smiling—the bonds between Pokémon and trainer were already forming amongst her newfound friends. A small piece of her, buried far in the back of her mind, crowded her sense of self-worth. She hadn’t yet met her Pokémon as the Togepi was safely tucked away in its egg, and part of her felt like a poor example of a trainer when compared to the others. At least Dweezil still maintained his stubborn sense of false-superiority, and it made her feel a bit better that somehow she had a better relationship with an egg than he did with Uf.

 

Several yards into the tall grass lining Route 301, she could heard Dweezil and Shira bickering as they returned from some sort of adventure. She hadn’t even noticed them leave the rest of the group, and her brow furrowed as she watched them emerge. On top of Shira’s head was a bird Pokémon—perhaps a Starly—curiously poking at the strands of her snowy white hair. Moira trailed behind, seeming pleased with herself and a feather hanging out of the corner of her mouth. Uf had his wings wrapped tightly around Dweezil’s head, nearly covering his eyes, and Dweezil pompously waved around a Pokéball.

 

“My Starly is _soo_ much better than yours, Snow,” He boasted.

 

Shira rolled her eyes, “No, he’s not, you decided to _copy me_ ,” she mumbled through gritted teeth, “If your Starly really was better than Mava, then you wouldn’t trap him in a Pokéball like an unfeeling rock.”

 

Lolani tensed and got to her feet, prepared to diffuse the argument, as Dweezil turned to glare at Shira, “It’s a _Pokémon_ , I don’t think it gives a single shit about if it sits in a Pokéball or not.” As if protesting Dweezil’s insensitive claim, Moira snapped at Dweezil’s ankle, her teeth grazing the exposed skin and causing him to yelp.

 

“Did you call your Starly an _it?”_ Shira stepped towards him, almost threateningly, eyes ablaze.

 

“Shira, Dweezil, why don’t you introduce me to your new Pokémon,” Lolani interrupted in an attempt to ease the ill feelings bridging between the two.

 

“This is Mava,” Shira presented proudly, the Starly still fussing with her hair, “She’s the newest addition to my _champion_ ”—she stared directly at Dweezil as she pushed out that word—”team. One day she’ll be a beautiful Staraptor, able to fly me wherever we need to go.”

 

“Well, she’s very lovely,” She compliment and reached a hand out to rustle the feathers on the Pokémon’s head. Mava peeped at her, gently poking at her hand with a sharp beak, then returned to trying to form a cozy nest out of Shira’s short hair.

 

Dweezil harrumphed and, not wanting to be outdone, threw his Pokéball into the air. A beam of light shot out of it, shaping into nearly a form nearly identical to Mava. As the Starly solidified in the natural world, Lolani noticed that this one had more white on the crest of his head, and more white feathers speckling the outsides of his wings. Although both Pokémon were Starlies, the differences were stark. Dweezil’s Starly wasn’t just colored in a slightly different fashion, but he was also significantly smaller than Mava. “This is Majestic Beast, _the_ M.B., _the_ one and only _Mib!”_

 

Sapphire and Lee hooted and hollered, partially because they were pumped up by the Dweezil’s theatrical antics and partially because it annoyed Shira. The noise caught the attention of Crispin and Ragna, who had been chatting and enjoying a sandwich together. Ragna made eye contact with Lolani, raising an eyebrow as if to ask _Need help?_ She subtly shook her head in response, gesturing for him to continue his lunch with Crispin. He shrugged but dropped his gaze from the fuss surrounding the acquisition of _two_ Starlies.

 

Shira was fuming, her arms crossed stubbornly over her chest as she stood several paces to the side of where Lee and Sapphire crowded around Dweezil. Lolani sighed and rubbed her temples, of course Shira was stewing in her teenage angst. After a moment she paused, and silently stamped down that line of thought She was only two years Shira’s elder, and everyone went through “teenage angst”—it was just part of living, no need to give Shira shit for brooding with good reason.

 

The gears turning in her head, she reached out and brushed her fingers against Sapphire’s forearm. She pivoted on her heel, staring at Lolani in wait.

 

She cleared her throat, putting together an idea to redirect the tensions, “Why don’t we try our hands at catching Pokémon?”

 

“ _Ooo,_ ” Sapphire squealed, “Melody, let’s go find a new friend!”

 

She was barely able to contain her excitement as she rushed into the waist-high grasses surrounding Route 301. Most wild Pokémon along this way were physically weak, used to living quiet lives without conflict. It shouldn’t be too much of a challenge; after all, Shira and Dweezil succeeded.  Lolani halted for a second, looking back to take stock of where everyone was. Dweezil seemed to be trailing behind her to come with, while Lee had grabbed Shira by the shoulder and dragged her to where Ragna and Crispin were lunching. She saw Shira tentatively sit down, uncertain and _almost_ demure, and pluck a half of a sandwich from Crispin. _Good_ , Lolani thought, _At least the others aren’t antagonizing Shira like Dweezil._ It wouldn’t prove to be a good omen if someone was an outcast on day one of their lengthy journey together.

 

The three waded through the sea of grass, Lolani picking berries from bushes as she recognized them as tasty treats for human and Pokémon alike. Ahead, Sapphire looked in every direction for any sign of a Pokémon she could add to her team. Lolani was going to question Dweezil on how he and Shira found the Starlies, when Sapphire’s melodic voice cut through the quiet of the afternoon with surprising ferocity—”Thundershock it!”  

 

It was hard to see what exactly was occurring through the cover of the grass, but it was obvious that Sapphire had found a wild Pokémon. Electricity arced from Melody’s form and light up even the bright day. Following soon after, was a white beam of light as Sapphire hurried to capture the stunned Pokémon in an empty Pokéball.

 

The wind seemed to hold its breath after the excitement.

 

Sapphire bounced over to Lolani and Dweezil, a huge grin spread across her face, and she released her catch from its Pokéball. The Pokémon was small, covered in leaves, and twitching pathetically as electricity sparked around its unmoving form. Lolani frowned and stated plainly, “You paralyzed it.”

 

“Oh,” Sapphire seemed crestfallen and apologetic, obviously not familiar with the effects that an electric Pokémon inflicted. Even though the Pokémon appeared to be a grass-type of some sort, it was still vulnerable to paralysis.

 

Feeling as if she had kicked a puppy, Lolani began to dig in her began for the berries she had picked earlier, humming softly, “I may have something to help your new friend, though.” There were a few types of berries of varying shapes and sizes—she knew the blueberry-like one was an oran berry, but she was unsure of the others.

 

Dweezil peered over her shoulder, seemingly sensing her hesitation, and plucked a round, red berry out of her bag. “You use cheri berries to cure paralysis.” Rolling it between his fingers, careful not to break the fruit, he kneeled down and rested a hand on the back of the Pokémon’s head. With careful movements, he coaxed the berry into the frightened creatures mouth and massaged its throat to encourage it to swallow. After the Pokémon had eaten all of the berry, it started to move and reorient itself among the grass.

 

Lolani watched, slack-jawed, as Dweezil stood up, “How did you?”

 

“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents,” he said dismissively, waving off Lolani’s baffled question.

 

A mechanical voice snapped her out of her stupor though, it announcing the details of the caught Pokémon: “Sewaddle, the sewing Pokémon. Since this Pokémon makes its own clothes out of leaves, it is a popular mascot for fashion designers.” The voice coming from what was presumably Sapphire’s Pokédex continued to drone on, recounting details such as the Sewaddle’s sex and weight and whatnot.

 

“Welcome to the team, Harmony!” Sapphire clapped her hands together and picked up the hesitant Sewaddle in her arms. He squirmed, uncomfortable at first, but then settled as he began to realize that the over-excited human meant him no harm. Anymore.

 

“So, Lolani,” Dweezil started as he rested a hand on her shoulder, “How are you gonna catch yourself a Pokémon?”

 

She realized that she hadn’t considered that as she gazed down at the egg nestled in the crook of her right arm. Biting her lip, she wondered—not for the first time—why she had gotten an egg for her starter. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she let herself listen to the nature around her. The wind rustled the grass, and Pokémon chattered and chirped in the distance. Seeing Harmony paralyzed and scared during his first minutes with his trainer had unsettled Lolani greatly. She realized that she didn’t want to catch her Pokémon that way.

 

Any Pokémon would join her on their terms.

 

Thumbing one of the round oran berries in her pack, Lolani began to stroll casually through the grasses once again. A beech sapling, barely taller than her, stretched above the the field and beckoned her like a moth to a flame. There appeared to be no other beech trees around, only maple and oak dotting the landscape. She ran a hand down its bark, softly murmuring to it, “You’re far from your family.” She settled herself amongst the roots of the sapling and the grasses surrounding it, stretching her legs outwards. In her hand she held two oran berries, plump and ripe to perfection. Now she just had to wait.

 

Oddly enough, it didn’t take long for the treat in her hand to catch the attention of a wondering Budew. It peeked at her through the stalks of grass, eyeing her as it decided whether or not to approach. Lolani didn’t move or try to beckon the creature closer, scared of frightening the tiny slip of a Budew away. With cautious steps, the Budew inched towards her, taking a berry into its mouth.

 

While it munched away on the first berry, Lolani slowly took out a shrunken Pokéball and her Pokédex. Clicking buttons on both devices simultaneously, a beam of light engulfed the friendly Budew as her Pokédex recited to her: “Budew, the bud Pokémon. Sensitive to changing temperature, the bud is said to bloom when it feels the sun's warm touch.”

 

\---

 

The Contest Hall in Mayfield was the smallest of the five in Atla but was well organized and elegantly designed. High arches and smooth curves drew the eye away from the rest of the rather dull buildings of the sleepy town. It wasn’t that the houses and tame commercial areas were boring or ugly—they _were_ beautiful, just uniform and simple. The building in front of Lolani, however, was surrounded by hedges of rose bushes and rows of blooming tulips. Painted vines and floral designs crawled up the curved walls of the Contest Hall, and the building was topped with a metallic gold dome, gleaming in the watercolor light of the setting sun.

 

She and her companions had to rush inside upon arriving in Mayfield because they had arrived so close to the closing time of the building, but now she was able to stop and enjoy the scenery stretched out in front of her. Her body felt light and warm, pleased with how the day had turned out. Solikh, the Budew she had caught, was quickly adjusting to his new life with enthusiasm and had become fast friends with Egg. Ragna had even been able to cajole Dweezil and Crispin into registering as coordinators.

 

All of the paperwork for contest registration was over with, and the first contest of the season was several weeks from now in Tartan City. The plan was to travel to Lower Bailey city and stay there for two weeks to challenge the gym and whatnot. There had been some bickering about whether to pass over or stop in Little Occam on the way to Tartan City, but Lolani eventually swayed the group into arriving at Tartan City early to prepare for the first contest of the season. Despite Ragna and Lolani’s best efforts to plan further than that, the conversation had devolved into an argument about what Lee should name his Whismur.

 

“Why don’t we crash at my house for the night?” Ragna suggested, jerking Lolani out of her musings. He noticed Sapphire pulling a confused look and, for the sake of his furniture, clarified, “And by crash, I mean everyone finds a couch or bed at my house and _sleeps_ on it—no wrecking anything.”

 

Dweezil raised his hand, a goofy grin on his face and about to joke about something or another when a voice called out behind them—”So, you’re Mortimer Crim’s new trainers.” Turning around, Lolani instinctively clutched at the egg in her arms tighter and used her foot to pull Solik closer to her legs. In front of them stood a well-groomed man with graying hair and tight lips. He wore something that appeared to be a stylized yukata, pale yellow with green vines intertwining on the sleeves.

 

Something about him made Lolani’s skin crawl.

 

Sapphire shifted uncomfortably and stepped behind Lolani, a soft whimper exiting her lips. Lolani’s eyes darted back to look at the suddenly meek teen, questioning in a low whisper, “What’s wrong?”

 

“He feels weird,” She responded, unintentionally cryptic and confusing. It seemed that whatever air surrounded the man was affecting Sapphire more profoundly. Crispin as well, Lolani noted as she saw him scoot closer to Ragna, his hand grasping for Ragna’s.

 

The man flashed a smile that would have been charming on anyone else, “Allow me to introduce myself,” he began, “I am Derek Murphy, a member of the Contest League board.”

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ragna said flatly, obviously not pleased to meet this man that had _something_ around him pushing at the comfort of his companions, “Name’s Ragna Red, and yeah, we’re Morty’s boys,” he paused again, briefly shifting his attention to Crispin and squeezing his hand reassuringly, “Is there anything you need?”

 

“Oh, not really, I just have heard so much about you all,” Derek waved a hand, dismissively, “Besides, I’ve known little Shira Snow and Dweezil Zappa since they could toddle, I felt a need to check up on them.” He stepped towards Shira, “My condolences, by the way.”

 

Shira responded with silence and a steely glare, as was her way with most people.

 

Derek Murphy’s lips briefly twitched out of the smile plastered on his face, but it didn’t take long for him to regain his composure. He then split his attention, eyes darting between Sapphire and Crispin. “Mister Red, why don’t you introduce me to your other companions?”

 

In his own way, Lee Bronne did his part to draw attention away from his nervous friends by blurting out an introduction for himself, “Lee Bronne, the one-and-only upcoming trainer from the big city in Kanto. This”—he presented his Whismur—”is the hottest new stud on the block. She can scream loud enough to make you regret having eardrums. She–”

 

Derek cut him off with a strained smile, “A pleasure.”

 

“Aaaaall mine,” Lee stated with hands on his hips and staring Derek directly in the eye, making it known that only pleasure Lee would had in meeting Derek is if it involved punching his smug face.

 

“Well, who are the others accompanying you, Mister Red?” He leaned forward, taking a better look at Crispin who was using Ragna as a meat shield.

 

“My name is Lolani Arbor, from Lacunosa Town in Unova” She spoke up, grabbing Sapphire’s clammy hand, “The Budew with me is Solikh.”

 

“That’s lovely, but what abou–”

 

Ragna interrupted, “Sorry to cut our meeting short, but, we’ve got tired Pokémon that really need a rest.”

 

She gripped Sapphire’s hand tighter and Shira, sliding over to their sides, grabbed her other shaking hand. Shira and Lolani looked at each other for a moment and nodded, the first sparks of a bond buzzing around their heads as they shared a determination to get their new companion away from the creepy, overly friendly man. They hurried after Ragna, who was tugging Crispin along. Derek Murphy attempted to follow and continue the conversation, but Lee stopped him and continued to chatter aimlessly into his ear, prattling on about this and that.

 

Lolani spared one last look back and wondered what they all had gotten themselves into by apprenticing under Mortimer Crim.


	5. Another Man's Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With age comes responsibility, and Crispin tries to do his part for his younger companions.

 

** **

* * *

 

**Crispin — “Another Man’s Treasure”**

 

Crispin was shaken after meeting Derek Murphy. He wasn’t sure why, but something about the man felt _wrong_ —intensely and undeniably rotten to the core like an apple with a worm writhing inside. The group was walking slowly through the streets of Mayfield, taking their time in arriving at Ragna’s house. It gave him time with his own thoughts to think, probe deeper on what it was that sent him into a panic at Murphy’s presence.

 

He bit his lip, trying to pinpoint the sensation that had radiated off of the man in waves. It was as if someone was pouring hot wax on his face and arms, scalding his skin. His brow furrowed. A warning, of sorts.

 

Extracting himself from Ragna’s side, he slid over to where Sapphire stood flanked by Lolani and Shira. The three girls held a steady silence, as Lolani and Shira were content enough with quiet and Sapphire appeared shaken up. He reached out, a hand brushing against her shoulder, and asked, “Did you feel that too?” A nod passed between him and Shira, and the lanky teen fell behind to allow Crispin to talk to Sapphire.

 

She glanced up at him, blinking away brimming tears with her doll lashes, “Mhm, he’s not a good person.”

 

“How can you tell?” Crispin prodded with a gentle tone of voice.

 

“Mother told me how some people can read others,” she paused and pulled at a loose thread on her skirt, trying to figure out in her head how to explain it. “I guess I’m part of those some people—and you, too, if you felt it.”

 

“Read others?” he echoed, “Like, read their minds?”

 

Sapphire’s lips tightened into a frown. “I don’t think so. More like…like there’s an invisible cloud around us all”—she gestured around her head—”and it has imprints of yourself as emotions attach to you.”

 

“Aaand, we make the invisible, visible?”

 

“I guess so,” she hummed and cocked her head to the side, observing Crispin’s worried face. “You know that feeling after you climb the _tallest_ tree n’ let the wind run through hair n’ just watch the forest below?”

 

“Uh, not really?”

 

Sapphire ignored his input, informing him, “That’s what you feel like.”

 

“Oh,” a soft noise escaped his throat.

 

“Oh?” she parroted, “Did I say something wrong?”

 

“No!” he blurted out, harshly at first and then softening his tone, “No, that’s jus’...really nice.”

 

Crispin tried to reach out with invisible fingers and feel that “invisible cloud” Sapphire described. She watched him intently as he twisted his own thoughts to correctly sense for the thoughts attached to Sapphire like lint to her clothes. At first, there was nothing like what he had felt on Derek Murphy earlier without even trying. It took a few minutes of walking in silence, straining himself to try to reach out towards Sapphire, to catch something.

 

There was a brief sensation of standing in the middle of a cave—empty and open with only the constant drip of water off of stalactites to fill his ears. It wasn’t unpleasant in any way, and he suddenly felt wide open and shut close in the same instant.

 

He opened his eyes and looked at Sapphire, breathless.

 

“Well?” she prompted and poked at the flesh of his arm with a jabbing finger. “Did you see it? What am I to you?”

 

Warmth and excitement blossomed in the center of his chest, clearing the unease from the meeting with Murphey. “An empty cave—a mystery yet entirely open for all to see.”

 

A smile quirked at the corners of her lips, and Crispin felt the cloud around her flood with warmth. It seemed like Sapphire was also cheering up.

 

“How do you do that?” Lolani questioned, breaking out of her self-imposed silence.

 

“Not everyone can,” Sapphire hummed as she leaned in towards the other, breathing in the comfort that Lolani seemed to radiate. “You’re like Mother’s hugs.”

 

Curious as to what Sapphire felt, Crispin prodded at Lolani too.

 

He stood on a sailboat, wind blowing in his hair and salt biting at his skin. The overarching knowledge that he was accepting the past, and moving forward without living in the future. Simply, handling what comes in the present with a calm mind and open heart.

 

It didn’t quite match up with Sapphire’s statement, but perhaps they saw different parts of the invisible cloud strung about the air surrounding Lolani.

 

Lolani’s voice, dulcet in sound and strained in tone, broke him out of his concentration: “What I mean is that I felt something...similar surrounding Derek Murphy. Not as intensely, I think, but he just didn’t feel right.”

 

“I didn’t know you could hang between perceptions,” Sapphire murmured in her annoying and unintentionally cryptic way.

 

Crispin began to respond, but paused when he noticed Ragna make a sharp turn into a driveway. His gaze followed the road leading to the most vanilla house he had ever seen. Raising an eyebrow, he looked between the white-picket house and it’s muscular owner. The difference in outside appearance was almost comical as Ragna ducked through the front door of his own house.

 

The facade of the house was painted a pale, pleasant yellow accented with white shutters. Through the windows, he caught a glimpse of well kept ivory curtains with gold floral designs. The front yard, and presumably the back as well, was covered in meticulous landscaping; there was a large maple tree holding a rope swing on its supple branches. For a brief moment, Crispin wondered if the house was Ragna’s opposite—seemingly suburban on the outside but with some sort of medieval torture dungeon lurking beneath the surface.

 

Ragna’s house wasn’t particularly large, and Crispin wondered how he planned to find a place for all seven trainers to crash. He waved at Lolani and Sapphire and jogged ahead to meet Ragna inside his quaint abode. Upon stepping in, he was quite relieved that, no, there was no indication of the presence of any torture devices of any kind.

 

“Ah, well, I only have one guest room, so some people will need to take the couches,” Ragna announced as everyone crammed themselves into the entryway, led like lemmings in search of somewhere to sleep off a long day’s worth of exhaustion.  

 

Dweezil pushed himself forward and gripped Ragna’s forearm tightly. “I call the guest room! It’s mine, for me, and no one else.”

 

“You’re going to need to share,” he huffed in response.

 

“My beauty sleep needs to be done _alone,_ ” Dweezil’s insistence was over-dramatic and not entirely unexpected, but still annoying. “Where is this room of guests?”

 

Ragna rolled his eyes, but directed Dweezil to the room with a rough push.

 

That left two couches for Ragna’s remaining four guests, and the glare Shira was throwing as she plopped herself on one of them indicated that she wasn’t keen on sharing.

 

Lee grasped at Sapphire’s hand and held it up triumphantly. “We’ll share the other couch!”

 

Ragna sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well since _someone_ ”—a pointed glare at Shira—”is being a bit of a bitch, I guess you can share with me, Crispin.”

 

“You don’t ha—” Crispin began to protest, only to be cut off by Ragna dragging him upstairs by the hand.

 

“Nonsense. No guest of _mine_ is going to sleep on the floor.”

 

The rest of Ragna’s house was as adorably quaint and well put-together as the outside of it. Paintings of serene sceneries and old photographs, presumably of family membered, littered the hallway walls. Seeing general lay of the house, Crispin felt like he knew what to expect from Ragna’s room.

 

And, oh boy, was he wrong.

 

Upon walking in, he was awestruck with the difference between the rest of the house and Ragna’s room. He glanced back at the floral wallpaper of the hallway and then to the walls of Ragna’s room, expecting the sight in front of him to blink out of existence.

 

But, no, Ragna’s room really was _covered_ in Mortimer Crim memorabilia.

 

“Holy shit,” he exhaled, eyes darting over the entirely unexpected room that just oozed fanboy.

 

Ragna shifted uncomfortable, his cheeks streaked with bright red, and he shoulder-checked Crispin into the room. The door clicked shut behind him, trapping Crispin in the lion’s den—quite literally as, damn, there was actually a poster calling Crim “ _The Lion of Atla_ ”. It was no wonder why Ragna had showed up yesterday to try to get a Pokédex from Crim.

 

“You don’t tell _anyone_ about this,” Ragna hissed, voice cracking in his embarrassment.

 

He threw his hands up and flashed a lopsided smile. “Never planned to. Your secret is safe with me.”

 

A few beats of silence passed between them as they unloaded their bags and changed into clothes that weren’t caked in sweat and grime. Beans and Egg were perched together on top of Ragna’s dresser, curled up together and already fast asleep. Crispin rubbed at the sore muscles of his thigh and hobbled over to Ragna’s bed—although it seemed to be more quilt than mattress. Sitting himself down, he groaned slightly as the damaged muscles in his leg tightened in protest. He was certainly used to walking for long periods of time, but sometimes it seemed to hit him harder than other times. Maybe it was the stress of meeting Derek Murphy that caused his body to whine and throw a tantrum.

 

“Something wrong?” Ragna questioned, sitting himself beside Crispin on the bed. He expected Ragna to be curious more than anything else, wanting to know how and when and all the details on how Crispin fucked his leg up colossally. Instead, his eyes were alight with concern and brow furrowed in caring worry.

 

Crispin really needed to stop assuming things of this man.

 

Not looking up, he responded, “Just an old injury that’s not going away anything soon.”

 

“Is it something I should keep an eye on?”

 

“Nah,”—Crispin shrugged with a roll of his shoulders—“I just got a huge gouge in my thigh when hiking one day and was too piss poor to go to a center.”

 

“So you just bandaged it up and let it be?” Ragna’s voice was firm, almost... _annoyed_ at the actions of Crispin on the path.

 

“Never said I made the best decisions.” Crispin bit the inside of his lip, enjoying the comfortable air between the two and taking a moment to relish in the budding trust and friendship, “But, yeah, it got infected, and my traveling companions at the side had to haul my sorry ass to the center anyways.”

 

“Bigger bill than if you had gone initially, I’m guessing.”

 

“I took the risk and got fucked for it,” Crispin responded plainly as he stood up, stretching. It was late and he was tired, so, with careful movements, he made his way to the light switch near the door. He took one last moment to examine Ragna’s face in the light, and added an anecdote as he flipped the lightswitch, “No point living in the past.”

 

\---

 

The next day was spent lazing about Ragna’s house due to a need to get Dweezil to just _shut up_ and stop complaining. Crispin passed his time with Ragna and Sapphire in the kitchen as Ragna attempted to teach two people that had never even held a knife before how to cook. The mess they created was spectacular, and he was pretty sure that he saw a piece of Ragna’s soul wither and die behind his eyes as Sapphire dropped a porcelain plate with blue detailing. He had assured a teary Sapphire that it was _fine_ and he didn’t really care that she had broken one of his plates. Crispin could tell he most definitely _did_ care, and the two were soon shooed out of the kitchen so Ragna could cook a dinner for the group in peace.

 

The tromp back through Route 301 on the following morning was scenic but rather dull. Even the trek to and from Mayfield was enough to leave some of the less physically inclined members of the party completely exhausted and ready to whine to Mortimer Crim.

 

Of course, Dweezil was the first to make his displeasure known to their patron.  “Fucking _hell,_ Crim, can’t you just let your duck fly us to the Lower Bailey? I don’t want to walk all the way there only to have to backtrack a million miles to go to Tartan City,” his voice was hardly more dignified than an airy whine.

 

Crispin glanced at Calandra, Crim’s large and imposing Swanna. In the moment her head was tucked under one of her large wings, beak combing through the silky white feathers. She either did not hear Dweezil call her a duck, did not care, or planned to exact her avian revenge in the middle of the night when no one was awake to hear Dweezil scream.

 

“That’s really defeats the point of the Pokédex and the entire journey if my Pokémon hold your hands for the entire time,” Crim grumbled and took a swig from a flask in his pocket.

 

Lolani, exhausted yet ever polite, calmly murmured, “We have to go to Tartan City for our first contest before continuing to any gyms past the Lower Bailey, so it’s not as if we _won’t_ pass through those routes.”

 

“Yeah, and it’ll give everyone more time to prepare for our first gym,”  he added, glancing to where Dweezil was trying to swat Uf away from his hair. Some needed more time than others adjusting to their new companions.

 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lee whispering something into Sapphire’s ear. Smiling slightly, she picked Melody up and buried her chin into the Mareep’s bountiful fluff. Suddenly her expression changed, and she began sniffling with tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Between startlingly convincing sobs, she said, “B-but Crim, the open road is scary! I’ve never been out of the forest before and there’s not any trees to protect me from bad people on the routes to The Lower Baily,” she paused and choked on her next words for dramatic effect, “Mother said that bad people are everywhere outside the forest ‘n that they wanna hurt me _and_ my Pokémon.”

 

Crispin struggled not to grin—he could plainly see that the manipulative doll-faced kid was wrapping Crim tightly around her little finger.

 

“Oh, shit—please don’t cry, Sapphire, I know it’s hard to be away from home but—fuck, just stop crying? Please?” Crim was panicking slightly, hovering over Sapphire uncertainly. He snapped his head to the side to look for Ragna’s help, but Ragna just shook his head in response as if deeply disappointed in Crim.

 

“Fuck, fine, Calandra can fly you guys to Lower Bailey,” Crim finally conceded as cheers filled the room. Seems like everyone was a lazy piece of shit willing to take advantage of their famous teacher’s resources.

 

Sapphire composed herself quickly, a hand covering her mouth to keep from giggling. She was quite obviously amused with herself due to the trick she just pulled. Ragna sternly glared down at her, Crispin barely catching Ragna tell her, “Just don’t do that too often or we’ll need to have a talk.”

 

\---

 

Crispin stumbled off of Calandra’s back, saddle sore and light-headed. He had volunteered to be the last one flown to the Lower Bailey in order to take advantage of Crim’s booze stock. It actually was pretty nice to just sit with their new tutor and drunkenly chat. Now, however, he mildly regretted the amount he drunk due to the pounding headache that was forming.

 

They had all slept at Crim’s house again, and Calandra woke Lolani and Sapphire up before dawn to start flying everyone in groups of one or two. Now it was early evening, with the sun sinking low in the sky. The city streets were beginning to light up, and Crispin could see clouds of dust and filth floating in the air under the intense beams of the streetlights.

 

The streets were narrow and lined with buildings of impressive heights. Apartments stacked on top of each other until it almost seemed like the roofs leaned hung over the streets. The architecture made him a bit nervous if he was being honest, but the locals walked through the street without a fear in the world. If the buildings really were in danger of collapsing, the bigwigs of the Bailey Quarter would fix that. Right?

 

They had a few rooms at a Poké Center booked, but most of the others had taken to exploring the city—something he had learned through their train wreck of a group message over the Pokédexes. He hadn’t been aware until getting his own that a Pokédex had more functionality then spitting out information about Pokémon, although it made more sense now that he thought about it. They were sought after by most everyone, after all.

 

It buzzed in his pocket, and he glanced down, catching sight of a message of Shira bragging about her newly caught Shinx. Guessing the bickering that would follow, he switched the ringer to silent and stuffed it back in his pocket. He might as well enjoy his street wandering and live in blissful ignorance of how his companions argued like toddlers on a playground.

 

Beans, having slept the entire flight to the Lower Bailey, was poking around and exploring the streets much more thoroughly. She stuck her head in gutters, tipped over trash cans, and generally wreaked havoc. Crispin might have picked her up and told her to behave, but he was conscious of the fact that she had to use her energy somehow or else she’d burn it off with her tail fire. He had learned that the hard way.

 

Crispin passed Beans as she inspected a trash can filled to the brim with rotting garbage, and she seemed far more interested in that than the others she had tipped. He turned to face her, quirking an eyebrow, “Something up, Beans?”

 

She didn’t respond or make any sort of indication that she had heard, instead choosing to pull the trashcan down on herself. A cascade of garbage bathed her in filth, and Crispin gagged a bit. Beans _really_ needed a bath tonight, and he might just make Ragna do it.

 

“Beans, stop messing ar—” He began to scold her, careful to keep his tone level and not get too loud or angry as Beans was a bit sensitive and didn’t like being yelled at. However, he cut off in the middle of his sentence when spotting one of the garbage bags begin to move among the rubble.

 

Beans popped her head out and cooed , nudging the moving garbage bag towards Crispin.

 

Holy shit, the garbage bag had _eyes_.

 

“Uh, hey?” Crispin threw out questioningly. He was pretty sure this was some weird type of Pokémon, but he might also have had too much to drink and be imagining it. Honestly, both were equally plausible.

 

He removed his Pokédex from a pocket slowly, completely ignoring the stream of messages, and focused it on the creature in front of him. The smooth, robotic voice announced: “ _Trubbish, the trash bag Pokémon: wanting more garbage, they follow people who litter. They always belch poison gas._ ”

 

Pursing his lips, he thought on that. Seemed like an odd fellow to like trash so much. Odd, but cute in its own way. “How would you feel about coming along with me, Mister Trubbish?” Crispin asked lightly as he fished in his bag for an empty Pokéball.

 

The Trubbish blinked up at him, making no noise.

 

“I guess I’ll take that as a yes.” Crispin shrugged and lobbed a Pokéball gently at him, a bright light encapsulating the Pokémon. After a few seconds, he let his new friend back out.

 

The Trubbish appeared indifferent.

 

“Huh, silent guy.” He paused and watched him for a few moments, thinking on what to name him. “How about Goro?” he offered after several seconds. There was no response. It was like talking to a mime.

 

Beans nipped playfully at Goro, who turned and looked at her quizzically. In response, he gently put his mouth around one of her ears, making a noise as if to ask if he was doing the correct thing. It wasn’t the first time that Crispin wished he could understand Pokémon—that way he could be more than a confused bystander as Goro tried to grasp the nuances of playing with Beans. However odd and distant her new companion was, Beans seemed happy to be with Goro.

 

Glancing down at the Pokédex in hand, he noticed several missed calls from Ragna along with far too many worried texts sent directly to him rather than in the group message.

 

_where r u? -Dweezil_

 

_Come to the Gym, now. -Ragna_

 

_P.S. Please -Ragna_

 

_uh shira lost it -Lee_

 

_u gotta come help us @ the gym -Lee_

 

_also bring snacks -Lee_

 

_and saph -Lee_

 

_Sapphire is already with us, ignore Lee. -Ragna_

 

Thankfully Lolani pulled through and her string of texts actually provided some context:

 

_We need your help at the gym. -Lolani_

 

_We were signing up for our battle appointments in two weeks. Except, Shira wants to do hers now. -Lolani_

 

Furrowing his brow, Crispin dialed Lolani’s number and waited for her to answer. Luckily, it didn't even ring twice before Lolani picked up. “ _Crispin? Oh, thank Arceus we finally got a hold of you.”_

 

“Sorry, had my ‘dex on silent because of the group message,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head as a twinge of guilt twisted his stomach.

 

“ _Just turn only the group message on silent next time, please, so we can still get ahold of you if something’s wrong,”_ she told him, voice firm but more worried than mad. “ _Anyways, that doesn't matter now. Shira wants to battle the gym right now.”_

 

 _“_ Right now?” Crispin echoed. “I thought that you had to set up an appointment ahead of time.”

 

Her response was swift: “ _Well, usually you do, but they happened to have an open spot in an hour. She’s too stubborn to realize that it’s best to wait.”_

 

“Just let her fight the battle and learn her lesson,” Crispin suggested, glancing down to where Beans and Goro where exploring another trash can.

 

“ _You can’t challenge the same gym leader twice in the a month.”_

 

“Oh.” Crispin frowned and paused—that would really throw a wrench in their plans. “I guess I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Once the call ended, he unceremoniously returned his Pokédex to his baggy, overstuffed pockets. “C’mon Beans, Goro, let’s get a move on.”

 

Beans perked up and leaped from the ground to his shoulders, nuzzling his cheek and likely leaving a streak of grime. He scratched behind her ear with one hand and scooped Goro up into the crook of his elbow with the other. The Trubbish had a fowl smell like rotting garbage, but Crispin shrugged it off—he was going to have to get used to the smell eventually.

 

After asking directions from a random passerby, Crispin was annoyed to realize that it was in the direction opposite of the Center he was headed to. It was about a twenty minute walk, and he worried about if he would arrive soon enough to help reign In Shira’s stubborn impulse. Little use complaining, though, because what’s done was done. Eventually, though, he made it to his destination and steeled himself for a frustrating interaction with a certain albino kid.

 

The Gym for the Lower Bailey was less impressive than Crispin imagined it would be. It wasn’t nearly as tall as the skyscrapers littering the streets. The building was actually rather squat in comparison, maybe being four or five floors tall with a generous guess. His companions weren’t loitering outside of the gym, so he began his search for them inside.

 

A search that didn’t last that long considering that they were all bickering in a group blocking the doorway on the inside.

 

Ragna spotted him first, roughly grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him forward, “Holy shit, you’re finally here. _Please_ , talk some sense into Shira.”

 

“Talk some sense into me? Wh—” Shira whipped her head to glare at Ragna and began to splutter an indignant insult only to be interrupted by Dweezil.

 

“Shira, you’re not Batman. Can’t just waltz in there without any practice and expect to win.”

 

“I need to prove that I’m the next Pokémon Champion!” she snapped back, eyes blazing.

 

“Dude, I’m pretty sure that Crim had a shitton of practice before he even _thought_ about being the Champion,” Crispin cut in, trying to do his part to stop Shira from being...Shira.

 

She grunted in response and tore away from the group, her Pokémon following closely behind. “I have an appointment to make.”

 

Crispin cast a worried glance to Lolani and Ragna, before saying, “I don’t think we all should watch her.”

 

Lolani nodded somberly. “She’s just so bullheaded.”

 

Ragna, tight lipped and brow furrowed, gently wrapped his hand around Crispin’s and began to lead him silently after Shira. Behind them, Sapphire and Lee chattered to fill the silence while Dweezil sulked and Lolani worried.

 

Following Shira through the gym was a bit nerve wracking—she didn’t stop to look at any of the other trainers in the gym and ignored every battle request. Usually trainers battled each other before an appointment with the gym leader to mutually hone their skills, but Shira just blazed onwards without a logical thought.

 

“Something must be wrong,” Crispin muttered lowly into Ragna’s ear.

 

Ragna paused mid stride, glancing down. “I just don’t see why she’s being so unreasonable.”

 

“Like I said, this isn’t just her wanting to be a Pokémon Champion or whatever. She must have a lot going through her head if she doesn’t _want_ to listen to what’s real about this situation.”

 

“I hadn’t considered that.” Ragna rubbed his forehead with one hand. “I was too angry at her to stop and think why.”

 

Crispin squeezed Ragna’s hand in his. “Not your fault. She’s 14 and dealing with something the wrong way—remember what that creepy dude in Mayfield said?”

 

“I remember,” Ragna growled lowly, glaring at the memory. Crispin blinked in surprise, but the look on his friend’s face vanished. “Let’s go, we’re close to the main room of the Gym.”

 

Crispin nodded, and they began to walk forward again, hand in hand, to watch Shira fuck up colossally. He couldn’t decide whether it would be amusing or just sad to watch. They slipped into the Gym just in time, seeing Shira standing on the side opposite of who Crispin assumed to be the Gym Leader’s.

 

Two men, one of average height and the other more of Dweezil’s stature, stood side by side in some sort of...wrestler get up? Their faces were covered by extravagant masks and legs clad in slightly scandalous shorts. They appeared to not be wearing much else on their very muscular bodies. Before now Crispin thought Gym Battles were supposed to be fought with Pokémon, but now he grimaced as his imagination pulled up a scene of the two flamboyant, muscular wrestlers tackling scrawny Shira.

 

The shorter one dressed in purples and blacks, was announcing the rules of the battle as they took their seats: “The name of the game is a Double Battle—the challenger will have two Pokémon on the field to combat each Gym Leader sending out one. At no point are either team allowed more than two Pokémon on the field, and each side is allowed four Pokémon for the duration of the fight. Pokémon may be switched out at will, but the same four Pokémon must remain in rotation.” He paused, eyeing Shira before demanding,  “Do you understand?”

 

Shira’s response was a firm and confident, “I understand.”

 

The other wrestler in pale blue with rainbow accents grinned. “Issue the official challenge and we’ll get started.”

 

“Di Morto and Rainbow Pegasus, I challenge you to a Double Battle under standard League rules,” she announced, words echoing in the room. With the poise of a practiced trainer, she flung two Pokéballs in the air. “Maija, Mava, take it away!”

 

And so the battle began.

 

A sharp intake of breath came from his side. “Fuck, she might have a chance.”

 

Crispin furrowed his brow. He squinted down at the arena, trying to ascertain where the hell Ragna had gotten _that_ idea from. From what he could see, she had just brought two normal types to a fighting gym—what would normally be considered a stupid move. “But earlier you said—”

 

“Forget what I said.” Ragna looked away from the budding battle to watch his face as he next spoke, “I just realized she’s riding on secondary types—she knows the roster somehow.”

 

“W-what? _How?_ ” he stammered incredulously. Weren’t gym leader team rosters supposed to be a huge secret? Y’know to make it ... _harder?_ A Gym _challenge?_

 

“We’re in the Lower Bailey, and one can learn a lot if they listen,” Ragna responded and gestured for him to watch the battle.

 

Rainbow Pegasus had sent out a Hawlucha and Di Morto, a Breloom.

 

Both were weak to flying and one to electric.

 

It didn't take long for the realization to dawn on Crispin how carefully planned this was on Shira’s point. Slightly crazy, but her plan had more credit than anyone previously gave her. If the gym leaders didn’t send out any pure fighting types, then chances are that their secondary type neutralized the debuff on damage normal type moves did to them. So, while their fighting moves would keep Shira’s team on her toes, she had enough force behind her attacks to pose a threat.

 

Chances are, she would go down fighting. Her inexperience was still counting against her big time, but she had calculated the risk and deemed it plausible enough to take.

 

Calling out orders, the Gym Leaders seemed to act as one entity. They were obviously accustomed to battling with each other, and their Pokémon moved in Sync to attack Mava—the lynch pin of Shira’s plan.

 

Shira had clearly anticipated this. “Mava, Double Team. Maija, give her some cover with Charge.”

 

The Starly became a blur of fluttering wings as exact copies of her appeared floating in the air. Maija leaped over the Starly images, and drew into a defensive position with sparks crackling in her fur. As stray bolts of electricity bounced off the walls and danced around the many Starlies, the enemy’s Hawlucha gave pause. It couldn’t attack Mava without taking damage from the after effect of the Shinx storing energy in its fur. A small amount of damage, but still a risk.

 

“Hawlucha, find the real one!”

 

“Now, Maija!”

 

The Shinx jumped upwards, grabbing the Hawlucha in her claws and tearing the bird Pokémon out of the sky. Simultaneously, the charged electricity in her pelt surged outwards, shooting into the closest target. The air smelt slightly of burnt feathers.

 

Shira wavered, waiting to see if the Hawlucha fainted.

 

In the short pause caused by her hesitation, the Breloom acted on a silent command. Fungal spores surrounded Maija, and she stumbled away from the Hawlucha, muscles locking up.

 

She swore, loud enough for Crispin to hear, but composed herself, “Mava, quick take Hawlucha out—don’t give it a chance to get back up.”

 

The illusion of Double Team dropped away, but Mava was already blurring towards Hawlucha before Breloom could react. With intense force, Mava slammed into Hawlucha, and the impact sent them tumbling together. The battle stilled as Mava stood up shakily and ruffled her feathers, taking to the air again, while Hawlucha remained motionless on the ground.

 

In the back of his mind, Crispin heard the referee announcing Hawlucha unable to battle as Rainbow Pegasus called him back. He stared at Shira, everything except the battle seemed to fade away. She had his attention now.

 

However, Maija was still struggling to break free of the paralyzing effects of Breloom’s Stun Spore. As an electric type, she was better at resisting paralyze than other Pokémon, but it wasn’t an electric move that did this to her.

 

“No mercy, Breloom,” came Di Morto’s command.

 

Moving swiftly and without pause, the Breloom advanced on Maija with punches and kicks. No matter how Maija struggled, she couldn’t move fast enough to avoid any of the blows, and so she staggered, falling limply on the ground.

 

Under normal circumstances losing a Pokémon when the other team had already lost one wasn’t that big of a deal, but Shira had three Pokémon to start with.

 

“Take the stage, Moira!” Shira announced as she flung her last Pokéball into the air. A flash of silvery light surrounded Moira as her form appeared, sparkles and stars seemingly hanging aloft in her white mane and tail. People in the crowd gasped—some because of the Eevee’s odd coloring and others because of her missing eye.

 

The effect surrounding Moira faded, and Shira wordlessly commanded her Pokémon after the Breloom, hoping to get it off the field before the fresh Heracross engaged them. Mava tucked her wings in, letting her body plummet into the ground, beak angled towards the cap of the Breloom. Moira dashed forward in front of it, grabbing it's attention, and then skidding to a complete stop. The Breloom took advantage of the stopped Eevee and shoved a fist forward, crashing into the scarred side of her head.

 

A few of the crowd voiced their disapproval of taking advantage of the charming Eevee’s weakness, but Crispin noticed a smirk play on Shira’s face. Triggered by a gesture from Shira, Moira let loose a howling cry. It shook Crispin to his core, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes unbidden. The Breloom clapped its hands over its ears, unable to defend itself as Mava’s beak smashed into the flat of its head.

 

The Breloom staggered, and fell.

 

On the other side of the field, Di Morto glared down at the last Pokéball in his hand for a moment, before smirking and whispering something to Rainbow Pegasus. Throwing the Pokéball up into the air, he announced, “Finish this, Croagunk!”

 

A brief lull seemed to come, although Crispin was aware that it was only mere moments as both sides planned their next steps. Moira and Mava warily regarded the Heracross and Croagunk, both exhausted from the rigor of the short battle. Although backed by a meticulously planned strategy, the young Pokémon were unaccustomed to such intense fighting. Crispin saw Shira’s lips moving, saying something to her Pokémon, but was unable to make out the words.

 

With blinding speed, the Croagunk dashed about the field, leaving thick footprints of sludge that bubbled ominously, while Heracross took to the sky on paper thin wings, the rapid movement filling the room with a high-pitched buzzing. Shira ordered Mava back into the sky and for Moira to avoid the patches of purple goo, unsure of what touching them would result in.

 

Crispin watched with rapt attention as two simultaneous games of cat and mouse played out. The start of the battle had seemed even, Shira’s strategy and knowledge of what she was going up against giving her an edge. But now, her Pokémon weary and opponents aggressive, she was slipping quickly—no longer on the offensive and desperately trying to maintain a defense.

 

The Heracross chased after Mava, getting glancing blows on her wings with its curved horn. One particularly hard hit turned Mava’s flight akimbo, feathers mussed and one wing awkwardly tucked inward as if in pain. Moira was small and swift on her feet, leaping over puddles of gunk and avoiding the jabs of the Croagunk. Although both were faster than their larger opponents, they were neither naturally inclined towards or trained for endurance.

 

Heracross caught up with the injured Starly and knocked her to the ground with one hefty swing of its horn. She landed in the puddles Croagunk left with a thud, now coated in a slick, purple substance. Heracross descended upon her in a flurry of claws, not letting up until the Referee had declared Mava unable to battle.

 

Moira tripped as she dodged another forceful jab, paws submerging into the goo. Crispin saw the Eevee flinch, but continue to scurry away and smacking Croagunk across the face with her tail as she did. After only a few steps she stumbled again, swaying uneasily, and Crispin realized belatedly that the Croagunk had been covering the field in a poisonous substance, hoping to trap the quick-footed Eevee. Moira tried to dodge away from the next attack, but her shaky legs failed her and the impact of the blow sent her flying across the field.

 

There was a moment of silence before the Referee declared Di Morto and Rainbow Pegasus as the victors of the match. Shira said nothing as she collected her Pokémon and left the room with a steely look hiding any hint of emotion on her face.

 

“I’m not surprised,” came Ragna’s low murmur, “but she put up a hell of a fight.”

 

Crispin watched spectators crowd around the Gym Leaders out of the corner of his eye, amused by the sheer fan worship they seemed to have for the pair of flamboyant wrestlers. He sighed and stood up. “I’m gonna go have a chat with Shira.”

 

Ragna raised an eyebrow. “She’s not really one for chatting about her feelings.”

 

“Tough luck, I’m gonna make her,” he responded firmly, “We gotta communicate about shit like this. Be open and honest and what not”

 

“You almost sound like a therapist—just not as well spoken,” Ragna jested, a hint of playfulness in his otherwise worried voice.

 

“ _Ragna! Crispin_!” He jerked his head to the side, watching as Lee ran into the room, panting. The others (minus Shira) followed behind him, less exhausted since they probably didn’t run up the stairs like a certain someone probably did. Lee flopped down onto the bench next to Crispin and Ragna. “Shira just stormed out of the Gym—how badly did she lose?”

 

“It was an interesting fight,” Ragna said with a warning glare, as if scolding Lee for assuming she lost even though he had also predicted such.

 

Lolani rubbed her forehead. “Well, what now? She can’t challenge the gym again for a month.”

 

Crispin noticed Rainbow Pegasus approaching the group, a goofy grin on his face as he cleared his throat. “You guys with the salt shaker that just challenged us?”

 

“Yes, we are,” Lolani affirmed, trying to not crack a smile at his nickname for Shira.

 

“New trainers, right?”

 

“Is it that obvious?” Sapphire questioned unblinkingly.

 

Rainbow Pegasus seemed a bit unsettled, and Crispin saw Lee lean in to jokingly whisper, “She takes some getting used to.”

 

“Weeeell, anyways”—Rainbow Pegasus tore his gaze away from Sapphire’s wide eyed stare—“I was thinking—that girl, got a lotta spunk. Could be good things for business, y’know? And I’m kinda stagnating a bit here—the Rainbow Pegasus needs some action. I propose a loophole, a win-win situation. Ya hearin’ me?”

 

Crispin chuckled slightly, “Not quite following, man.”

 

“Okay, okay, let me just say—Morto and I, we count as one gym leader. Usually ya can’t challenge a gym for a month after you lost. But if the leader changed, then your salty friend has a second chance,” he paused and then clarified, “What I’m getting at is I become your group’s plus one.”

 

Lolani appeared thoughtful, examining Rainbow Pegasus with a critical eye. “Could it be that Crim…” Her voice was a low whisper, almost as if she didn’t realize she was talking out loud. Without clueing anyone into her thoughts, she began to dig through her bag, one arm carefully balancing her egg. After a few moments she withdrew the iridescent Pokédex that had been given to her in addition to her own. “I think this is meant for you,” she said with a cautious note to her words.

 

Rainbow Pegasus’ grin widened as he turned it over in his hands, examining the signature of Mortimer Crim engraved in small letters on the back. “So you’re Morty’s new boys, huh? It’s gonna be a blast to travel with you guys.”

 

Crispin spoke up, “Can we do introductions later? I kinda want to go see how Shira’s holding up.”

 

“Sounds like a plan.” Ragna nodded, but continued to speak, addressing the rest of the group, “Any idea what has Shira out of her mind?”

 

There was a beat of silence as Dweezil hesitated to speak, “I don’t know if it’s my place to say, but if this is gonna cause her to act out… Her parents kinda kicked the bucket a few months ago.”

 

“Kicked the—Dweezil, can’t you be a bit more respectful?” Lolani snapped.

 

“S’rry, but anyways, it’s a huge mystery why the Snows were killed and by who. We’ve known each for a while because of our families—she was a stubborn bitch _before_ , and I didn’t think it was possible to be any more of a bitch. I was wrong, because she has reached like a _god_ tier of bi—”

 

Ragna cut him off. “We get it, Dweezil, Shira’s a huge bitch and has baggage.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll go talk to her.” Crispin broke away from the group. “She probably went to the Center to get her Pokémon fixed up.”

 

\---

 

After asking the nurse if she’d seen a grumpy albino kid, Crispin was given keys to their rented rooms and directed there. He wasn’t entirely sure who had claimed what room, as he hadn’t had the chance to drop by the Center before, so it was a bit of a guessing game to find her. Of course, she was in the last room he checked of the three. He knocked lightly on the door, his knuckles barely brushing against the wood, before unlocking it and entering. Shira sat on the end of one of the beds, knees pulled up to her chest and Pokémon pressed to her sides in an attempt to offer comfort. Her expression was more angry than anything as she glared at the floor, saying nothing and only grunting in greeting as Crispin walked in.

 

“Hey, kid,” he greeted, taking a seat on the other side of the bed.

 

Her response was an immediate, defensive grumble: “Not a kid.”

 

“Didn’t mean it in a bad way.” He raised his hands in mock submission. “Just in a ‘I feel like I need to go all older brother on you and ruffle your way while asking about your feelings’ way.”

 

Shira’s glare was deadly as she lifted her head. “Touch me, and I’ll have Maija shock you.”

 

“I called you kid because you are one—whether you like it or not,” Crispin told her, jumping right to the meat of the situation and not bothering to reply to her threat. “You’re 14 and life fucking sucks, and you don’t know why or how to deal with that.”

 

She was quiet for a few moments, one hand tangled in the fluff of her Eevee’s mane. “I just miss Moira. I want her back”

 

“Moira? But she’s…” Crispin trailed off with his brow furrowed as he watched Moira’s sleeping form, her chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm.

 

“Moira is my younger sister,” Shira mumbled softly, voice strained, “She’s only 12, and I don't know where she is. My parents, they told me to protect her, but I failed. ‘N now I fucked up my one chance to get her back.”

 

Crispin gently laid a hand on her knee, beckoning for her to continue. Sometimes it was best to just talk and get it out.

 

“There’s something weird going on—I don’ know what, but I know my family was involved. Nettles won’t tell me anything, so I gotta find out by myself.”

 

“And you think becoming Champion will give you the answers you need?”

 

She nodded, fist clenching in Moira’s fur.

 

“You’re wrong about something, Shira,” Crispin said, almost smugly, as a grin spread across his face. Shira’s head snapped up, her red-rimmed eyes narrowed in wary agitation, but he continued before she could say anything, “You don’t need to do this by yourself.”


End file.
